Secrets better left Forgotten
by 2 good 2 kill
Summary: Adrift and alone one Spartan's survival lies on an uncharted planet. The planet if full of many wonders and secrets. Some secrets the Forerunners didn't want found. This secret may cost the Spartan more than his life.
1. Awakening

Hey its 2 good 2 kill again. Sorry for the lack of activity, been working on other projects along with social life. For my writers block on my second story I have decided to skip that story for a little while and give my fans (if I have any) something to pass the time. This would have been the third installment in my series. Don't worry though the stories cryptic enough that you won't be lost from the events of the two previous one. I still plan on completing the second one. I hope the community likes this and will give me both feed back. Constructive criticism is also welcome. I own nothing pertaining to either franchise...damn it.

The stars dotted the expanse of the sky. Their beauty was not interrupted from other lights of an advanced civilization. Two beings stared up at the stars pondering their thoughts. Both wore clothes that were made of a fine material. Each had features that were alike, but the shorter ones appearance was slightly different. One was young and had brown hair that dominated his scalp. The other was far older and had sliver hair.

"Do you think that were alone?" Eragon asked Oromis.

"We have each other, but no I sense no one else's presence." the wise rider responded.

"No, I mean do you think anyone else lives amongst the stars?" Eragon asked again making his question clearer.

The old rider brought his hand to his chin as he stared up at the stars. He stoked it deep in thought.

"There is a wide expanse of stars it is possible there are others that have the beauty of life. It would be a waste of that beauty if others did not live besides us." he stated his philosophy.

Eragon nodded knowingly but he regretted he didn't get a definite answer.

"Do you think we'll ever meet them?" Eragon said.

Oromis smirked as a feeling of nostalgia washed over him.

"Not in my lifetime I'm afraid." Oromis said as he stared up at the twinkling stars.

Eragon said nothing but a feeling of helplessness consumed him as he remembered his masters sickness. He said nothing as to not ruin the moment.

"Glaedr and Saphira are on their way." Oromis said as he rose from his chair.

"Great." Eragon mumbled as he knew what would come next.

Unbeknownst to most of the life forms on the planet someone from the stars was coming. Those that did know knew of the prophecy and dreaded his approach. For when he came everything that they knew would be forever changed.

A massive hulk of scrap metal floated through the expanse of space. It rode the gravitational pull of the universe. Some would say it was in harmony with everything around it others would think it ugly and something to be removed. The _Forever in His Hands_, a medium sized cruiser, tumbled through empty space. It's two occupants had slept for numerous days. The ship had been to badly damaged for slipspace travel or basic use of thrusters. The final battle that had befallen the ship had been one of legend. Unfortunately for one sole occupant, in a final act to save others it had sacrificed its way back home. The being had rightfully earned its title.

Scanners on the ship probed forever into the expanse of space searching for a place to set down, while a beacon cried out into the dark searching for anyone to save it. The scanners found something…a possible habitable planet. The deep space scanners went into overtime scanning the planet. The computer named the WATCHER read the information.

SCANNING

UPLOADING DATA

…

…

…

UPLOADING COMPLETE

UKNOWN PLANET DATA:

ATMOSPHERE:30% OXYGEN…60% NITROGEN…7% CARBONDIOXIDE…3% OTHER.

ATMOSPHERIC TEMERATURE:-20 TO 40 DEGREES CELSIUS.

ENERGY READINGS:THERMAL…LIFEFROMS PRESENT …NUCLEAR… NONEXISTANT…RADIATION LEVES… NORMAL BACKGROUND RADIATION …ELECTRICAL… MINIMAL TO NONEXISTANT.

TOPOGRAPHY:LAND MASS 30%…WATER 70%.

END OF DATA

DESIGNATION

…

HABITABLE

AWAKE SPARTAN

RELEASE CODE

RECLAIMER'S CASKET

CODE CONFIRMED

BEGINNING THAW SHAKE DOWN

SPARTAN IN STATSIS FOR APROXIMATELY: 5 YEARS, 3 MONTHS, 10 DAYS, 20hrs, 37min, 46sec.

WARNING

THAW POTENTINALLY DANGEROUS TO OCCUPANT

PRECAUTIONAL THAW BEGUN

SPARTAN OPERATIONAL IN APROXIMATELY: 17hrs.

17 hrs later.

The CRYO CHAMMBER housed many cryotubes for a crew of 300. Only one was active. The thawing process was complete. A hiss of escaping air escaped the coffin like tube. An obscuring mist of cold air flowed out of the tube. Like rising from the a forgotten time the Spartan emerged from the light. His glorious armor was battle scarred. A Katana ran from the top of his left shoulder to the right side of his thigh. The newly awakened being took in deep breaths to enjoy the unfiltered air. Rising from one knee he approached the computer consul opposite him.

GREETINGS SPARTAN III GAMMA 267.

TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE.

SHIP IS ON CALCUALATED CRASH TO HABITABLE UNKNOWN PLANET.

SENORS INDICATE THAT THE SHIP HAS SUSTAINED MASSIVE DAMAGE TO SUPERSTRUCTURE. HIGH PROBABLITY OF SHIP BREAK UP UPON ENTERINTING PLANETS ATMOSPHERE. SURVING CRASH ABOARD SHIP 9%.

USING HEV POD HAS A 98.9% CHANCE SURVIVAL RATING

SERNORS ALSO INDICATED THAT THE CURRENT MARK IV ARMOUR IS TOO BADLY DAMAGE FOR SUSTAINED USE.

PLACE ARMOUR IN ARMOURY AND I SHALL ATTEND TO REPAIRS

RECOMMEND SUIT UP IN ODST ARMOR.

SELECT WEAPONS AT YOUR DISCRETION.

The figure read assessment on current situation and the planet. An audible sigh escaped his lips. He had worn his armor into numerous engagements it had become apart of him, it had made him who he was. To leave it behind was terrible, but his analytical side told him that it was just a piece of armor that had been over used and would be a liability in battle.

Heading out of the CYRO CHAMMBER he headed to the closest armory. Each step he took echoed through the quiet ship. The dead silence put him on edge. He hated silence. What he wanted to hear was the clatter of gunfire and the roars of his enemies.

Entering the armory he head over to the repair shop. Mechanical arms surrounded a flat bed. Taking off his helmet he set it at the top and worked his way down. Bit by bit he began to remove his armor until he stood in his underwear. He looked at the odd arm attachment that Guilty Spark had given him. It hummed to life at his touch. A white glow emanated from the top a three dimensional screen appeared. Unfamiliar letters formed in front of him before they were translated to English in front of his eyes.

Retrieving information from CAVEAT

INFROMATION OBTAINED

[CAVEAT]

The following information has been gleaned from a variety of sources, impartial and otherwise. Records retrieved from alien systems cannot be verified except by cross-reference against out own records. The significant system-wide lull in record-keeping for many of these species invalidates much of the provable veracity of this information. The following document is as accurate as possible under difficult circumstances but should be treated as an in complete investigation only.

Investigation Status: ONGOING

Information origins include:

UNSECURED ALIEN COMPUTER ARCHIVES [SUSPECT]

RECORDED OBSERVATION [VARIABLE]

TRANSLATED COMMUNICATIONS [VARIABLE]

INTERLOPED SYSTEMS [SUSPECT]

OWN ARCHIVAL [ACCURATE]

COMMUNICATIONS FROM ARRAY INSTALATIONS [CLEAR]

COMMUNICATIONS FROM SHIELDS [CLEAR]

ASSUMPTIONS FORM MONITOR 343 GUITLY SPARK[UNDER INVESTIGATION]

ASSUMPTIONS FROM 2401 PENITENT TANGENT [CLEAR]

DNA/RNA/Silicon samples are encoded in this datastream. Reproduction of individuals for analysis is prohibited by this facility [CAVEAT].

BEASITRY (CONTAINS ALL RECORDED SPECIES BEFORE AND AFTER ACTVIATION)

TIER OF TECHNOLOGICAL ACHIEVEMENT LEVELS

FORERUNNDER INSTALATIONS (ALL FACILITIES, WEAPONRY, AND CITIES)

GUILTY SPARKS LOG

The Spartan looked down at the little device in amazement. Guilt Spark had given him all of the Forerunner knowledge. It was a gift beyond imagining.

Turning off the device and looking down at him self he realized that he needed some new underwear. Ignoring the cool air that surrounded his body he entered the Locker portion of the armory. He began to go through the ODST suits until he had assembled an armor pair that was fit to his liking. Sliding the helmet onto his head he began to double check everything.

Turning on the VISR he checked the low-light vision enhancement, the camera, and the internal and external speakers. Everything got a green light.

He exited the Locker and began to sort through the armory. Opening a box that read ODST CANNON. This quirked some interest from the soldier. Inside the box was what looked like a machine gun. It had shorter barrels than the typical machine gun. Grips normally on shot gun were on each of the three barrels. What really surprised the soldier was that it had 8 Gauge Shells for ammo. It was a cross between a shot gun and a machine gun. This weapon would be absolutely deadly against multiple opponents in tight corridors. Closing the lid he put the box back where he found it. When he fell out of the ship he wanted to be fast and light, the weapon would just slow him down.

The Spartan began to cross off weapons that would not suit him. He crossed off the Flamethrower, Machine Gun Turret, Missile Pod, Rocket Launcher, Grenade Launcher, and the Spartan Laser. As these weapons were large, cumbersome, and overkill for anything that he might face on a back water planet like this. That left the Assault Rifle, Battle Rifle, Magnum, Shot Gun, SMG, and the Sniper Rifle. He immediately discarded the Assault Rifle. Why Jack and John loved the semi-useless weapon he could never guess. The Shot Gun was a good weapon but it lacked magazine capacity, in case he came across a large group of enemies. The Sniper Rifle was good at long range but he wanted something a little closer in case things got closer than he wanted. That left the Magnum, SMG, and the Battle Rifle. Plus the Katana, and other necessary equipment that he would bring. He would take all three. The SMG for its sheer rate of fire, the Battle Rifle for medium range, and the Magnum as a side arm in case things got desperate.

Satisfied that he had chosen his weapons he took the ODST variant of the Magnum and SMG. The M6C Magnum and M7S SMG. Both came with a sound suppressor and a smart link scope. The Battle Rifle was just another standard issue Battle Rifle.

The Magnum was strapped to his leg and the SMG on his thigh. The Battle Rifle was placed on his back and his back pack filled gear on top of that. The Katana laid perpendicular to the Battle Rifle so that he could draw it at a moments notice. Booted, suited, and ready to jump the Spartan now turned ODST took the elevator to the bottom of the ship where the SOEIV 'Drop Pods' were stationed. Picking the first one he placed the SMG in one of the weapon racks. He strapped himself in. A small map appeared on his visor showing where he would and where the ship would crash. The distance estimate was roughly 15 kilometers from his crash site to the ship's crash site. A 30 second count down appeared as the WATCHER prepared to drop him.

A synthetic voice echoed in the Spartan's helmet. "Five, four, three, two, one…Launch."

There was a snap and a hiss as the Drop Pod was released from _Forever in His Hands._

As the Spartan's POD entered the upper atmosphere of the planet the temperature rose inside the pod. The intense heat caused the warrior to sweat but with his training he was able to ignore it. The thought of "digging your own grave" inside the pod was not all that appealing. He just hoped that the pod's chute would deploy. There was a thump that slammed the back of his head against the pod's wall.

"_Oww…now all I need to worry about now is my landing_." he thought.

The desolate mountainside was peaceful, until a large flaming metal object smashed into the trees smashing limbs aside and setting many on fire. It crashed into the earth with an thump. A deep crater surrounded the pod. There was a hiss and a bang as the door to the pod burst forth from its resting place. Stepping out onto the alien planet he recognized a very unalien surrounding. Fir trees that weren't fire rustled in the breeze. Checking the immediate vicinity he came to the conclusion that nothing or one was here yet. Looking up to the sky he could see the fiery trail of _Forever in His Hands_ as it entered the planet's atmosphere. Crawling out of the crater he checked his HUD to see the waypoint. A small blue dot appeared on his radar. Nodding in confirmation he headed to the waypoint.

Rorarn stared at the comet that lit up the sky it was headed toward the Spine. Letting air refill his lungs he hadn't realized that he had been holding his breath. He had grown worried for Katrina's sake. Baldor had sent word to him of his father's death, which was the only reason he had abandoned his job in Dempton's mill in Therinsford. From what he had gathered from Baldor's letter was that the two strangers that had come into town had killed Garrow, and Eragon had fled with Brom. The only conclusion as to the strangers involvement in Garrow's death was that they were searching for the blue stone that Eragon had found in the Spine.

It infuriated him that Eragon had a hand in Garrow's murder even though it was accidental. Stroking his camp fire with a stick he reignited the flame. Sparks raced up into the night sky before burning out.

The lone soldiers stalked through the silent mountain side forest with only his thoughts for company. He held the SMG loosely at his side, as he strolled through the quiet forest. He would have been moving at a faster pace but he didn't know what kind of creatures lived on this planet and he needed to be ready for anything. Hurrying could get him killed or accidentally kill a potential ally. Pausing for a moment he stared at the device on his wrist. Could it perhaps some details on the creatures of the planet? It was certainly worth looking into. Moving forward along the mountainside he came across a cave. Activating his low level light enhancer he searched the cave for possible threats. He found nothing. Deciding that now was a good spot as any to answer his questions he activated the device. It flared to life giving him the same menu output it had before.

Selecting BEASITRY he entered a new menu selection.

SPACEFARING

DOMINANT SPECIES

GALACTIC LOCATION

Pressing his finger on the symbol closest to LOCATION.

A new list of menu options appeared.

DOMINANT

CLOSE TO EXTICNTION

LOW CLASSEXTINCT

ALL

He chose DOMINANT for those were the creatures that he would most likely run into on the planet.

A new list appeared.

HUMANS

ELVES

SANGHEILI

DRAGONS

DWARVES

The list went on and on but just for a second his heart stopped beating. Their were humans and sangheili on this planet? Along with a bunch of other fairy tale creatures. This was just to much for him. Their were also Reclaimers like him on this planet? Could it be that their could be other Spartans, or perhaps humans that had been elevated to Reclaimer status. The latter was more likely than the former as much as it pained him.

He stare from the top of the list and worked his way down.

[Human, _Homo sapiens _]

Homeworld: Aduro

Star, Position: Incendia, VII

Satellite(s): Astrum

Atmosphere: 1 atm [N2, O2]

POPULATION: 1 billion

SOCIETAL APPROXIMATION: RELGIOUS/DICTORAL/MILITIANT

The human population group has a technological level of Tier 7(Preindustrial). These humans are the least developed of all the human populated worlds. An understanding of Energy Manipulation, multiple competing societies, and other predatory creatures has probably resulted in the humans slow technological advancement.

These humans have had a better treatment with the other dominant races than those that have originated from other planets. Humans, Dragons, Urgals, Dwarves, and Elves of Alagaesia have formed a strong alliance against a common foe. The sangheili and humans of the Haven Garden have formed a strong and lasting(approx: 95,000 years) alliance against other factions. Other nations are mixed.

ELVES

SANHEILI

DRAGONS

DWARVES

There was just to much information of this planet to go through in one day. Taking a nutrition bar out of his pack he wolfed it down and continued on his way. His mind wurred with thoughts as to how humans got here along with the other species.

Climbing atop another mountain the black clad soldier saw his destination ahead. The ship hadn't been merciful when it had crashed into the mountains. Snow had melted leaving the mountains bare and naked. Trees had been knocked over, or were burnt as the ship passed. Some were still lit on fire. A lake/river had begun to form at the tail end of the ship. Animals that once been here were either dead or fled. Once he came a cross a group of birds that had been cooked in the air and fell to the earth. With the dramatic changes to the environment made the going a bit more of a struggle, but eventually he made it into the ship. He entered the closest air lock. Lights illuminated his path other corridors remained dark. A holographic billboard illuminated showing PLEASE FOLLOW THE PATH. He knew that the dumb AI had survived the crash landing. Checking the damage to the ship he saw that most of the damage had been facial and that everything inside had been thrown about but was still in good order. At the end of the path he reached the bridge. Sitting down in the captain's chair he waited for the AI to do something. The 2D holographic panel in front of him showed the STARS satellites that the AI had launched prior to entry. Eighteen of the satellites orbited the planet. They were spreading out further to cover the entire planet. A data stream below showed information that was being gathered. The AI selected one of the satellites above their position. Accessing the camera on the satellite it showed a small portion of the continent they were on. He could see the crashed outline of the ship and other populations that the AI had highlighted most were shown as a dull gray, neutral. Their were two red blotches, one large and the other small. The large one was closer to him was centered around one city, the other was spread out through a large mountainous area. The AI zoomed into a small village south of the ship. Uneasiness grew in him.

INFORMATION ON LOCAL POPULATION IS REQUIRED

INFILTRATION

He sighed and the most of the uneasiness left him.

"Tomorrow." was all he said.

The AI said nothing and let him be. Rising from his chair he left the bridge and head to the captains quarters. When he entered he saw that the hardwood desk had been toppled over and various books sprawled around the area. He moved passed the mess, he would clean it up later. Entering through another door he saw what he wanted, a bed. Taking off his armor and gear, he laid down on the bed and let true sleep take him.


	2. A Spartan walks into a bar

Hello all, thanks for reading my story. Hope you guys contiune to enjoy it. Thank you WorldStrider for seeing my typing error. If you want to be my beta reader it would be much appreciated. If you want to discuss the course of the story than shoot me an email and I would be more than happy to share some of the plot (with pairing's I have an idea). Also if anyone has any characters they want to add to the story send me an email. Still looking for a beta reader.

Awakening to a shrill alarm the soldier threw the covers off and grabbed the battle rifle. Turning to the left he saw the shrill alarm was coming from the clock. It read 6:00am Earth time. Above that on the computer he saw that the AI had typed WAKE UP.

He growled in annoyance. Touching the space bar on the Captain's computer he sent a message to the AI showing that he was awake and awaiting further orders, begrudgingly.

INFILTRATION MISSION IS A GO

He nodded and head into the bathroom. Entering the shower he let the warm water wash over his muscled form. He leaned his back and let his mind go free enjoying the few minutes of peace. The water instantly turned cold he yelped and jumped out of the shower. Turning to the only camera in the captain's bathroom he gave the AI the bird. Grabbing a towel he removed the water. Entering back into the bedroom he donned on the ODST armor and the rest of his gear. Exiting the captain's room he followed the illuminated path before him. The path led him to the Vehicle depot. Entering the room he was surprised to see that the room wasn't as messy as he thought it would be. The tanks and other large vehicles were still in their place. A flashing light led him to a mongoose with a robotic dolly next to it holding surveillance equipment along with a sniper rifle. Replacing some of his gear with the equipment and exchanging his Battle Rifle with the Sniper Rifle he mounted the mongoose. A cold breeze entered the Vehicle Depot as the doors to the outside world, a slight pink and yellow sun was on the horizon. The massive hanger doors parted allowing him a straight shot out. The mongoose crushed snow as it landed, he gripped the throttle and zoomed off.

The sun just peeked over the mountains illuminating the sleeping village below. He held the sniper rifle up to his head to get a better view of the area. It had a butchers shop, an iron works, a tavern, and houses and other stores scattered about. Based on the fact that the village had few soldiers he guessed it must have been a patrol keeping an eye on the land the people and soldiers were very relaxed they must have had little regard for an assault. The village must have relied upon the mountains as a natural buffer to keep out bandits and raiding parties. Which would make sneaking in easier. A few people milled about going on to do what they wanted. He could pick up voices from a sound amplifier he had next to him. He was surprised that the dish had picked up English and had checked to see if the dish was in working order and apparently it was, they spoke English. He guessed that some how the Forerunners were behind it.

"Well the language barrier has been broken." he muttered.

INFILTRATE THE VILLAGE

Appeared on his HUD.

"What, why?" he asked.

FURTHER ANALYSIS

"I should be back at the ship making repairs."

DRONES ARE MAKING REPAIRS TO ALL DAMAGED SYSTEMS. AND ALL DEFENSE TURRETS ARE ONLINE MAKING ANY ASSAULT SUICIDE. BESIDES NO FORCES HAVE BEEN SEEN HEADING TO LOCATION. BESIDES YOU GOT ANYTHING BETTER TO DO?

"Bitch," he muttered "alright keep me updated on possible scout parties."

WILL DO. AND I HEARD THAT

"Good." he said ending transmission.

A breeze entered Morn's Tavern as a hooded and heavy cloaked stranger entered. This did not draw any attention as everyone was busy talking to each other. Making his way past each table careful not to bump anyone he settled into the darkest corner far from the merriment his back to the wall he watched each group with bored interest. The soldiers in the center of the bar were the loudest and rowdiest of the groups. Any of the female servers that walked by were spanked on the ass or embarrassed in some other manner. The soldier had his helmet on but had the sliver reflective visor depolarized so as not to draw attention. If anyone clearly saw his face they would think it a trick of the light or that they had one to many drinks. A woman with green eyes and copper hair came by him.

"What would you like?" she asked sweetly.

"Is that water free here?" he asked keeping his face down as to avoid detection.

"Aye, it is." she responded.

"I'll have a glass."

She nodded her smile had fallen some what. He watched her go with his order. Sighing he tapped a button on the inside of his helmet with his chin and his visor slid back. Now that he had made an order he would have to comply as to not draw any more attention to himself. The heat of the cloak was easy to ignore but the constant shouting and yelling of the soldiers was starting to annoy him.

"Here's your water sir…"

"Dutch. Just call me Dutch." he lied hurriedly.

"May I ask what your business is here in Caravahall?"

"Just passing through." he lied again.

"You have blue eyes… I've never seen a blue eyed person before."

"Hey, girl where are our drinks?" a heavily drunk soldier said as he felt the waitress in front of "Dutch".

"They'll be along shortly." she said turning her face away from his rancid breath. She gave Dutch a pleading look.

She was pulling all the right strings for the soldier. He set down his glass of water and sighed inwardly.

"Sir, I suggest you lay your hands off her."

"Oh, and what are you going to about it?" he said leaning down to face him His brown eyes to his blue. The soldier than spat in his water. He grimaced at the soldiers foul breath and could only guess what toxins that were in his spit that now fouled his water.

"It's not what I'll do it's what she might put in your drinks. From your breath I guess they already spiked your previous drink with piss." he said keeping his voice as level as he could.

The soldier looked as if he was going to say more but a roar of delight from his comrades that another batch had been served he walked drunkenly away.

"Thanks." she said weakly to him.

"Do you think you could get me another glass of water?" he asked.

"Sure." she responded.

As he turned his attention back at the laughing soldiers he saw that brown eyes sniffed his water before taking a swig.

He stayed there another hour before he grew bored enough to leave. Rising from his chair he made his way through the bar. He bumped into some one with his shoulder and apologized and moved on his way until a voice rang out.

"YOU." the voice boomed.

Turning around he turned around to face his old pal brown eyes. He was out of his chair with the rest of the group.

"You insult me and now you hit me?" All other conversations had ended.

"I accidentally bumped into you." he said keeping his voice as level as he could so as to be provocative.

"Now your asking for a beat down twerp." he said even louder.

"I bet he could not you flat on your back." the female waitress with copper hair said. Once she said this the bar was alive again as people placed their bets.

He flashed her a look saying Shut it. He turned back to the soldiers hoping to resolve the situation peacefully. The other soldiers were already making bets and crying their comrade onwards.

"_Shit_." was all that he could think.

"Quiet!" a voice that boomed from the door. Everyone's attention turned to the newcomers.

Three soldiers stood in front of the door. These one seemed more elite and better disciplined than the group that stood behind Dutch.

Moving through the crowd the leader of the soldiers walked with an air of authority. His black hair was tied in a pony tail that ended in between his shoulder blades. An air of superiority flashed in his eyes as he scanned over the peasants.

"What is this talk of fighting?" he said as he stared down his soldiers.

"Huh, sir, huh, sir.. he."

"Out with it boy!" he commanded.

"Sir, he disrespected me and the company."

"Murren you need to learn to take these peasants words and realize that they speak out of anger. That they do not respect what the King does for them."

"Yes, sire." he responded.

"Now you will not fight him."

A chorus of groans echoed around the bar. The soldier's hope of leaving without having to shed blood grew.

"I'll fight him. Any one who disrespects the company disrespects me." he said turning to face Dutch. Annoyance was evident on his face.

"Captain Bronx." was voiced from many of the bar's compatriots.

Most wagers if not all were on the Captain's side.

"I place 100 Galleons on the stranger." a voice echoed above the rest.

"Horst, you can't be serious." some one said.

The two fighters ignored the voice and waited for the start.

"I wager…" the voice was cut off as Bronx turned to stare at the copper haired girl.

"You wager your body. Well girl that is a brash decision but as a gentleman I will respect it." Bronx said.

The man named Horst made an out burst of the wager but his voice was drowned out by Bronx's soldiers.

"Give him a weapon." Bronx said with a sneer on his face.

The soldier's face contorted in anger at Bronx's handling of the copper haired girl.

"I already have a weapon." he said as he drew a knife.

Laughter erupted from many mouths.

"That's a brave move, but a foolish one." Bronx said as he drew his sword.

"What are the rules?" he asked.

"The first to give, unconscious or otherwise incapacitated loses." Bronx said.

"By the way what is your name?" Bronx asked.

"Jordan." he said giving his true birth name.

"Well Jordan let's have a good match."

Everyone gathered in a circle around the two fighters. Jordan felt something he hadn't felt before in a long time, anticipation. Bronx opened up first with a flurry of sword strokes, it was evident that it was for show and not actual combat. Jordan expertly dodged each stroke. He could have ended this quickly but where would be the fun in humiliating this arrogant bastard.

He sidestepped each move with ease. Bronx grew angrier at his evasiveness and began to attack for real. Each stroke came in a hairs breath of penetrating the cloak, only because the soldier felt no real threat from his assailant.

"Fight me coward!" the Captain roared.

"If you insist." was all that was replied.

Dropping below the Captain's cut he moved his fist upward and hit the captain square on the chin. Bronx was lifted off his feet. His face smashed into the ceiling before he landed hard on the floor.

"Had enough?" Jordan questioned.

"Never." the Captain replied as he wiped blood away from a cut on his lip.

The Captain rose and began to attack in a mad frenzy. The soldier continued to dance outside of Bronx's blade. The men began to jeer and taunt the two contestants.

One of Captain Bronx's men smashed his shield into Jordan's side as he dodged underneath another slash. Grunting he rolled out from Bronx's stab to end his life. He vaguely heard someone call foul play. Coming out of the roll he realized that he had lost his knife when the drunken soldier had hit him. Feeling the heat from his back he guessed that he rolled in front of the fire. Growing serious with situation he grabbed the only weapon closest to him, a broom. He brandished the stick with hay at the end like a staff.

Laughs erupted from those that had bet on Bronx. Plunging the hay into the fire he brought his burning staff to bear. The laughter was abruptly cut off. Spinning the burning wood above his head he created a flaming halo. Bronx moved forward carefully his eyes always on the burning end. Which was his mistake. Bringing the non-burning end in a slash he took out the Captain's feet out from under him. Bronx let loose a gasp of air as he landed hard for the second time. He attempted to rise up, but the burning torch in front of his face stilled him.

"Do you give?"

The captain said nothing but kept his attention on the flame.

"It would be a shame to burn that pretty little face of yours." he said as he did a slight thrust with the broom causing Bronx to flinch back.

"I yield." Bronx said slowly. It was evident that his pride had been damaged.

"You men." Jordan said as he leveled the stick at the crowd. "Pay your debts."

Each men warily gave their token's and item's of bets at the feet of the man he could only guess was Horst and the copper haired girl. He waited until both individuals had gathered the items they had desired. The man had given the girl more. With dealings done Jordan backed up to the door, picking up his knife from where he lost it. The burning broom leveled at the soldiers the entire time. When he reached the door he opened it with his free hand. The anxiety in the room grew.

Dousing the flames in the water bucket near the door he caused a mist to arise to conceal his escape. Inside the bar the patron's watched as the mist cleared to see the stranger missing and snowflakes lazily floating in. The anxiety deflated as soon as the first ray of sun hit the floor boards. The men went back to their tables regretting the bets they made.

"Who was that man?" Horst asked the copper haired girl.

"Dutch or Jordan, I don't know. Maybe both names are false." she said.

Both stared at the space the stranger had once occupied.

Roran bit his lip as he paced back and forth his mind always on Katrina and the safety of the village. A snap of a twig caused him to seek shelter behind the rock that was apart of his camp. The large frame of Baldor came into view and Roran allowed himself to relax.

"Why hasn't anyone come sooner?" he asked Baldor.

"We couldn't," said Badlor as he took a moment to get his breath. "The soldiers have been watching us like hawks. The brawl in Morn's Tavern gave me the chance I needed to slip away."

"Their was a fight?" Roran asked in disbelief. "Who was hurt?" his voice filled with urgency. "If any lives were lost I'll..." Roran let the sentence hang.

"No, no one was hurt aside from the Captain's pride and the few men who betted against the stranger that strode through here."

"What have the soldier's been talking about?" he asked relieved that no one was injured.

"A few of the soldier's have been bragging about how they were handpicked to bring you in."

This did not encourage Roran any bit.

"Perhaps you should seek the stranger's help. Some of the villagers said that they saw some person moving toward these forests." Baldor stated.

"What can one man do?"

"Perhaps he's a spy for the Varden. I don't know. All I do know from Horst was that he was highly skilled."

Roran paced back and forth as he tossed multiple ideas around in his head. He came one that would seemed the best course of action.

"I'll go after this man and see if he will help us. By the way do you know what his name was?"

"He was called Dutch and Jordan. I don't know if those are his true name or if he goes by another. But he should remember the fight at the bar."

"I'll leave for the week and search for him. If I don't find him I'll meet you back here."

"Are you sure you can find him?"

"I may not be as skilled as my brother, but I am still decent tracker."

Baldor nodded to him and turned his back heading toward the village. Roran gather his stuff and set out for the area that Baldor had seen the mysterious man fleeing.

The soldier now known as Jordan moved through the mountainous area in a hurried pace. After he had ditched the cloak where he had found it he hightailed it out of the village. Moving through the dense forest at the base of the mountain he continued to remove all parts of his trail. Throwing off any soldiers that were sent after him. As he moved through the forest an incoming message from the AI caused him to pause. Ducking low under a log he allowed the AI to send his message. He expected to be ridiculed by the AI, but this was not the case.

UNKOWN ARIAL FORCES HAVE TAKEN POSSESION OF SURVEILLANCE EQUIPMENT, WEAPON, AND VEHICLE..

What? was the first question that had come to mind. He had hid everything pretty well. His second question was who. The AI answered this question with a video image. It was taken a few hours after he had left the camp. Two very dark and large creatures descended upon the camp. Those that were mounted upon the large beasts dropped to the ground and began to gather and examine his equipment. It irked him to see one of the creatures take his sword. Their identities were hidden underneath their clothes. They moved inhumanly he noted.

"What did the scans on the beasts and riders have to offer?"

A two dimensional image of both the large beasts and riders appeared. The beasts reminded of some sort of demented griffin. Their riders, as he suspected, were not human. They had the basic human appearance such as arms and legs. But that was where the similarities ended. The riders were far more stronger and deadlier than humans. Also they had a nasty beak like the griffin creatures.

"Are the repairs to my amour complete?"

REPAIRS ARE COMPLETE. THANKS TO THE ENGINEER. HOWEVER IT IS THE SAME AS THE UNMODIFIED MARK IV ARMOUR. THE MODIFIED PORTION WERE TO BADLY DAMAGED AND THERE ARE NO REPLACEMNTS ON BOARD.

His heart leapt at the thought of being in his armor again.

"_Engineer ?_" he thought. "_I thought I was the only one on board_."

As he walked down the illuminated halls of the _Forever in His Hands_ a dull pain throbbed in his head as he remembered running down this very corridor to get to the bridge. Taking a left he came upon the armory. The door slid open and he met a creature he did not expect to see. With a startled noise he jumped back from the xeno. The creature did like wise. In front him floated a giant Covenant Engineer. It floated back in shock at his presence it let out a startled yelp. It was easily the size of a Scorpion tank. The alien stared at him in shock for a moment before backing away and letting him enter. He knew that the creature meant no harm, but fighting alien life forms had made him wary to trust them. Turning to the nearest terminal he let the AI speak.

I SEE YOU HAVE MET THE ENGINEER.

"Yeah." he stated as he turned to look over his shoulder to see the massive alien floating next to him. It's six large black eyes on him and the terminal.

THE ENGINEER WILL HELP YOU PUT YOUR ARMOUR ON

Stepping away from the terminal he unhooked the ODST armor and placed it on the nearest bench. He stood in a basic white T shirt and pants. As he moved to the creature he noticed that the armor was still a basic grey and that the green coating had not been painted on, and that the helmet was not of his original model. Not that it mattered to him. The massive alien obscured the rest of his vision and began to disassemble the armor and to reassemble it upon his body. It started from the feet and went up. Soon it donned the helmet on his head. There was a hiss of air as his suit pressurized. The alien did not move but ran a diagnostic on his amour before it was satisfied. Once the large alien had removed the last of his tentacles he began to move each piece.

The armor felt like a second skin to him. He felt at ease.

NEW ORDERS COMING IN was what the AI sent to him.

"I'm ready."

Roran awoke to a crackling fire. Across from him sat a mammoth of a figure. It was grey all over had one golden eye. Bolting up and reaching for his bow and arrow only to find it next to the boulder the giant was sitting on. It held an odd device which was leveled at his chest. He noted the odd reflective metal that covered the single handed weapon. At least he guessed it was weapon. As he relaxed the figure opposite of him lowered the weapon. When he looked at the being more closely he realized that it was a suit of armor and that the golden eye was really a visor. How the being was able to see through it he could never guess. It put away the weapon and clasped it hands in front of itself.

"Who are you?" the grey figure asked.

"My name is Roran son of Garrow."

"What are you doing so deep in this forest?"

"I might ask you the same question."

The figure said nothing but continued to stare at him waiting for an answer. Eventually the uncomfortable silence got to Roran and he spoke.

"I came looking for the man that goes by Dutch or Jordan."

"Well you found me now what do you want?" the figure continued ask.

"I heard that you were able to take down the Captain of a group of soldiers."

"This is true."

"I was wondering if you would be able to remove the soldiers and the wretches that lead them."

"This was something I was going to do myself anyways."

This gave Roran a small measure of hope. "You'll help us then?"

"No."

"No?" Roran asked in disbelief

"I still no nothing about this land or who you are and why these beings are after you."

Roran found it odd that no one could no nothing about Alagaesia.

"You're really not from here are you." Roran asked in disbelief.

"No."

Roran sighed letting the memories wash over him. He began to delve into the tyrant king known as Galbatorix had ruled the land for a hundred years. When Eragon found the mysterious damned stone that lead to his father's death. How the two beings known as the Razac are after him to get to his brother, he guessed. And he concluded with his own desires to rid them of their oppressors.

The figure sat still for moment thinking. It was hard to tell when golden visor hid his face and the emotions that played across it.

Finally it spoke and it said three words. "I'll help you."

Roran entered Horst's forge with eager anticipation. Upon entering he could see that multiple men and young adults had gathered to rid Carvahall of the Raz'ac and the soldiers. The news of Quimby's death had affected everyone in the village, and the village demanded justice.

"I know that everyone here is angry at Quimby's death." Horst started.

There was a chorus of aye's and curses. Horst raised a hand silencing the crowd.

"We want them out of this village and we will get them out, but we must not kill them. First we have to scare them off."

Anger arose from gathered villagers calling Horst mad and loony.

"We must scare them away so that we have time to build our defenses before they attack us."

The villagers were still angry but had calmed down accepting the information. Horst began to hand out anything that could be used as a weapon to the gathered men. Roran choose a hammer as his weapon. As he looked around at the gathered men he saw Nolfvrell, Quimby's son, choosing his own weapon. A pang of pity swelled inside his breast which he quickly quelled. This was not the time for pity.

Confronting Horst Roran told him that he had been able to get the stranger on their side.

Like a still statue Jordan sat unmoving in the trees that hid his presence. The moon shone on him revealing his presence only to disappear again as a cloud passed over head. Turning his head he saw the villagers as they approached. Awe and wariness was etched on their faces as they gazed upon him. Roran stooped down on his right and Horst his left.

"I count thirty men in total." he stated flatly.

"I appreciate your help stranger." Horst said "But I must ask you to refrain from killing any of the soldiers."

Jordan turned to face Horst his impenetrable visor showed Horst and the color that drained from his face.

"As you wish." Jordan said as he rested his shotgun and battle rifle on a nearby tree.

Standing up he easily stood above the rest of the men gathered there. Horst and Roran back way slightly shocked at the giant before them.

"_What is he?"_ Roran thought to himself.

"Whenever your ready." the giant said.

Horst gripped his weapon with so much force Roran thought that he might break it. Roaring loudly Horst charged out onto the soldier's encampment the rest of the villagers followed with a mighty roar of their own.

As Roran charged into the encampment he saw a lone soldier pop out of his tent and charged him. As soon as the soldier saw him he took off in the other direction. He failed his hammer around like a mad man. All soldiers the soldiers were caught off guard and forced to flee. The Razac came out of their tent blades drawn. Letting out a piercing shriek the smaller of the two figures ran at Roran. Memories of Garrow's death spurred him to charge the Razac with reckless abandonment. He didn't care about Horst said about not killing the soldiers, he wanted the Razac dead. The distance closed in between the two. As they were about to meet the giant put himself in between the Razac and Roran. Grabbing the blade with one hand he ripped it out with his right hand while his left hand caught the Razac by the throat. The giant raised threw the surprised Razac into his partner who was stringing a bow. They tumbled in the snow before untangling themselves and retreating. One of the two had a limp, Roran couldn't tell which one.

Jordan watched the hooded figures rush off into the distance. Turning his attention to the original reason why he was here he began to sort through the Razac's encampment until he found his equipment. He checked his weapons and various equipment to see if it had been tampered with or if any thing was missing. Nothing was missing and all equipment was in it's state that he had left it in.

The weight of his equipment and weapons caused the ATV to release a groan of displeasure. A rumbling of the Mongoosese engine told Jordan that it was in working order.

Roran watched with fascination as the giant mounted the small green wagon and with what sounded like multiple roars of thunder sped off into the night.

"That man, that thing, wields strange magic." Horst said.

Roran could only nod his head. That Jordan, who or whatever he was, was powerful. He got the distinct impression that when Jordan had fought the Razac that he had been holding back.

"You think there's more of him?" Baldor asked as he gasped for air feeling exhausted after the adrenaline rush.

"Gods help any poor fool to pick a fight with them." Roran answered.

"And thank the Gods that he's on our side." as Roran put a small, black box the giant called a radio on his belt.

"_Use that to contact me. Only use it when you need me."_ Roran remembered what the giant had said to him.

Snow, dirt, and wood chips kicked up into the air as Mongoose disappeared through the forest.

YOU SHOULD HAVE KILLED THEM! the message, the now very annoying AI, sent him.

"We are foreign to this land. We know nothing of its customs, let alone those of its warfare. If I had killed those soldiers chances are that more would come to avenge their comrades."

THOSE SOLDIERS HAVE A SUPERIOR AND THEY WILL REPORT TO HIM/HER. AND THEY WILL COME IN GREATER NUMBERS.

"If they come, then I will kill them." Jordan said ending the matter.

Not much for a second chapter, I know but it's for the eventual build up. I will try to update a chapter every week, but I make no promises. Although a little encouragement would be appreciated.


	3. Spartan vs Razacs

Thanks for the encouragement, dragonshina. Still looking for a beta reader if any one is interested. In this chapter I'm adding my own characters to provide a continuation of the Galbatorix story arc. I have also added more Razac to make the over all story much more interesting. This chapter is a little shorter than the others but hopefully it will apease you reader.

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><p><em>"LIGHT <em>and _DARKNESS_. _JUSTICE_ and _VIOLENCE_. _BEAUTY_ and _UGLY_. _LIFE_ and _DEATH_. _ANGELS_ and _DEVILS. _These are the things that govern the universe." Thought a balanced being, an unstable being. A two faced being spoke aloud. One side was light and angular, the other was dark and round. White hair of clouds met a pure blood wavy hair. One horn went straight back while the other side had a black goat curved horn. A cloak of black rested on his back and trailed a little ways behind him. From the front cloak covered the rest of his body except for his feet. One foot was armored in grey, the other was a black hoof covered in red hair.

"The interlopers of Haven Guard upset this balance. The heretics of Iron Fist consume the earth with little regard for the mark they leave. The Immortal Guardians of Nature are arrogant with their age. The icy cold winds of the Dark Ones interlope with balance of what is." the unnamed cloaked figure spoke.

Many different creatures lined the three levels of the GRAND HALL OF THE BLACK DOOR and listened with rapt attention. The hall was decorated with images of light and darkness. Scenes of heaven and hell.

"With the wars they fight they wreak havoc upon the balance. The world now stands on the brink of utter annihilation. But there is hope. Through this door lies a god and his untold power. One that could _end_ all and _reclaim_ all." The figure gestured with an open hand to the black door. Hushed whispers followed after his speech.

The door was as tall as the three levels and was wide enough to let something very big through.

"But to open it we need the key. Long have our predecessors looked for such a key with no hope of ever finding it, but…" it said intentionally leaving a long pause. "But now they key has fallen from the ceiling of stars. From the throne of a silent do nothing God and Gods. Tell me who is brave enough to venture the world and find this key and danger it presents?"

"I am." a feminine voice bounded off the walls and high ceiling.

A womanish figure landed before the mixed being. Her armor was skin tight and revealed a lot with showing little. The armor was the purest white, netting lined joints to protect but give her great mobility. A mostly blank mask covered her face. The only color on her attire was the black hair tied in a bun, and the two red lines that ran from the tear ducts on her eyes. It gave her the appearance of crying blood.

"Child of Tears. Your heart is strong and your will is as hard as steel. Are you sure you are up to this task?"

"With all my heart Paradox. I will bring the key to this grand hall." Tears said with no quiver of fear in her voice.

"Then go and bring it here. But first I give you two gifts. My first gift to you is a legion of two hundred Long Arms. The second is this Monocular. It will show the key for it shall bear the Seventh Colum."

An image appeared above their heads. It was a white crown with the center being the tallest point.

"Upon this image you will find the key to our glorious salvation!"

A roar of great proportions echoed across the GRAND HALL OF THE BLACK DOOR.

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><p>Jordan watched the multiple bands of forces before him with great intent. It showed the forces that moved across the land that had become identified as Algeasia. The pointy eared humans or Elves, as they called themselves, had started to gather at the edge of their boundaries. Human resistance troops, called the Varden, stationed in the mountains had marched out to a desert area, and Galbatorix's forces had begun to move to the desert as well. Only one good thing about the coming war was that no one was bothering him. However he felt a sort of anticipation. He knew he would be drawn into this war some how.<p>

"Jordan we need your help! Is this blasted thing working!" Roran's voice crackled over the loud speaker of the ship.

Snapping his head up he tapped in commands on the captains chair. The 2D image in front of him shifted to locate where the incoming radio broadcast initiated from.

"I'm here Roran. What do you need?" he stated calmly.

"We have one of Galbatorix's ship on us along with numerous Razac and their mounts."

Jordan watched as twenty or so of the large flying mounts harried Roran's ship. Another ship with Galbatorix's symbol closed in on the merchant vessel. There was only one outcome, the ship would fall unless he intervened.

"Watcher get a HAWX ready." Jordan said as he placed his helmet on his head.

ALREADY PREPARED the text appeared on his visor.

"I want a Sniper Rifle, an assault rifle, and two pistols loaded onto the bird."

IN PROGRESS

Even though Jordan's face was calm, his heart was racing in anticipation. He wanted to grab the hilt of the blade on his back and slash some foe. The corridor passed by in a blur.

Coming into the hangar he spotted numerous mechanized dollies moving around the HAWX in preparation for his mission. As he approached they moved away signaling that they were finished with there assigned tasks. Using one arm he lifted his entire body into the dormant weapon. Thumbing the controls he initiated lift off and took off through the open hanger.

Roran strung another arrow onto the bow. Tracking his target he let the arrow fly, only to miss the giant bird that was his intended target. Even amongst the cries of the men, women, and children aboard the vessel he could still here the cackles of the rider on the beast's back.

Reaching back for another arrow he discovered that he had none left. Cursing his damned luck he tossed the bow aside and drew his hammer for what little good it would do him in a long range fight. Turning to look at the ship pursuing them he saw that it was gaining on them, but the Captain of the vessel seemed to be taking his time. Cursing again he realized that the ship's Captain was purposefully doing this. Letting them weaken their strength in a fruitless endeavor to bring down the Razac.

"Where is that Spartan!" he hissed.

One thing that Roran always remembered when the Spartan saved them was when white light struck the Razac and it's mount in the air and completely removed the entire upper body of the thing.

The twin chain guns on each wing echoed out a constant drum as the Spartan pulled the trigger on the yoke. Tapping a button on the left side of the cockpit he let a missile fly and turn another of the birds and it's rider to grounded meat.

Yanking on the yoke up he made the HAWX do a somersault avoiding the creature that had tried to attack him from the rear. Now with the tables turned bullets tore up the wings of creature. With no upward force to keep it elevated it plunged into the ocean and sunk. In the span of the thirty seconds that he had been there only eleven of the original twenty remained.

His plan on luring the aerial threats away from the ship was working but keeping a safe distance from the creatures was getting harder as they abandoned their focus on the ship and turned it on him. The crafty beasts had begun to attack him from assortment of different directions. Some shot arrows at him but were ineffective against the HAWX's armor plating. Two more fell to the unforgiving sea as he picked them off with the chain guns. Cries of anger and sorrow blasted from the maws of the creatures. The combined effect made the Spartan momentarily lose his vision and to slide the yoke to the right. Jordan felt the impact of the HAWX as it connected with one or two of the creatures. Reacting on instinct he swerved to the left and broke free, but the creatures now had the upper hand and did not waste it. Pulling on the trigger he sent bullet after bullet into the creatures as they made their passes. With their long sharp curved beaks and talons they nipped and pulled on the HAWX like wolves on a moose.

Despite all the danger that surrounded him the Spartan remained calm. If he lost his cool he would become less effective. Very few shots found their mark, but when they connected they caused the creatures immense pain. He fired the laser on the nose of the craft and nailed another creature in the head. Three of the remaining creatures had fled the battle for the severe injuries that they had sustained, leaving four behind.

Red lights flashed across the cockpit as the damaged HAWX vented power. The situation was getting worse, and as if to reaffirm this two of the creatures locked onto the two wings. They began to bite at the joints and use their beastly strength to try and rip the wings off. Tapping commands into the console on his right he prepared evacuation. Grabbing the black and yellow striped handle bar on his seat he yanked up. A controlled explosion of the glass covered cockpit and seat sent him high into the air away from the two doomed beasts. They let go of the HAWX to pursue him but were to late. The miniature reactor on the HAWX went critical and consumed everything in a fifteen meter radius.

The Spartan abandoned the chair and parachute immediately after the parachute had been deployed. If his math was right he would land right on top of the ship. However his math wasn't right and he would crash into the side of the ship. Wood splintered as he crashed in through the hull of the ship. Coming out in a roll he brought his Assault Rifle to bear. There were three men clutching at various fragments of wood that lodged themselves in their bodies. There were thee corpses as soon as the Spartan shot each of them in the head.

The only door that led out of what appeared to a bunk quarters burst open and a man clad in amour rushed him with a mace held high with both arms. With a quick punch of his left arm he punched him right under his sternum. There was soft whoosh of air as the man lost his breath, and the ventricles and arterial veins were separated from his heart, and brought the man to his knees. Stepping past the body he moved on. He heard the man fall and die.

Moving out the door he was greeted with a terrified young soldier who had his hand on his dagger. He quickly tried to remove it when he saw the grey armored monstrosity before him. The Spartan shot him before the man had even the chance to remove the dagger from it's sheath.

"DIE ABOMINATION!" a man with a high voice screamed behind him.

Turning to face the threat in the ships narrow confines would be difficult so he resorted to a back kick that killed the man and sent him flying. The flying dead man apparently crashed into his comrades who tumbled back down the stairs that they had so vigorously tried to climb.

"Idiots." he mumbled.

His sensitive hearing caught yelling of orders from the Captain above the level he was on. He returned the Assault Rifle to it's spot next his Sniper Rifle. With his hands free he bawled his gauntleted hands into bludgeons of destruction. His first fist broke a large hole and his second made a hole large enough for him to crawl out of. The sun shone upon his eyes momentarily hiding the foes before him. The visor on his helmet instantly polarized giving him a clear view of the stunned and horrified faces before him.

The moment passed and the soldiers and sailors who weren't still stunned reached for their weapons, but he was already upon them. His fists and kicks connected with flesh and metal, and most certainly broke something. These simple moves were all that was necessary for foes that were slower and weaker than him. This was child's play for the lone Spartan. Two of the beasts slammed on top of the ship causing it to bob up and down as the two very large masses were added to the ship. A roar that promised fury and pain issued from the creatures diseased meat rotten beaks. The men and sailors still alive aboard the top of the ship either whimpered and cried or flung themselves overboard with fear.

The Spartan stood strong and tall against the two creatures and their riders that had dismounted.

"You will pay for your _sins_. **Demon**." one them spat as it drew its blade.

What came next, no what he said next surprised the Razac and sent a small shiver down their inhuman spine.

It chuckled then spoke and said "Demon…haven't been called that name in years. God that brings back memories. To bad any all that called me that had a nasty habit of getting their spine ripped out."

Screeching in a battle cry the riders charged first. They charged in unison and swung their blades in unison. One swung high for his head and the other low to cut him across his abdomen. On another slower foe the multiple directional attack might have worked. With his right hand he caught the swordsman right wrist, bent it and shifted the direction of the force of the blade from his head to the one trying to slice him in half. The creature let out a shriek of both pain and surprise at it's brother's death and the broken wrist.

With a swift kick side kick to the Razac's abdomen he sent it sprawling and out of the way of the main event. The two large beast snapped their beaks at him wishing to decapitate him. It was ironic to see the Spartan move with the half-a-ton armor with the grace of a ballerina. One of the Razac mounts bit forward to far and presented itself like a turkey on Thanksgiving. Grabbing the upper and lower part of the beak he twisted the head sidewise and promptly ripped the jaw off of the creature. He dropped the head and turned to face his last opponent. Filled with rage the creature charged across the wooden deck tearing up boards as if it were gravel flying behind a child's frantic feet. All the Spartan did to avoid and counter attack was to jump into the air and fall using the force of gravity to pull his half ton armor onto the creatures neck. The hollow bones of the creature gave way instantly.

Blood and gore coated both of his boots as he removed them from the large avian creatures head and neck. With a blood curdling cry the Razac that he had kicked to the side charged at him, one arm completely useless. Whipping out his pistol in his right hand he shot the creature in the skull, blowing apart it's skull.

Reholstering his pistol he turned his head in a 360 degree view noting that only he stood on the deck. Cries of joy could be heard growing louder as the unmanned vessel caught up to Roran's ship. Jordan jumped ship and was greeted with applause.

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><p>Hope to have the next chapter updated by next week. Please review. 2 good 2 kill signing off.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Hey guys sorry about the late update, been busy with work. The next few chapters will be for plot building, but I am happy to say that I have already begun writing the battle with Galbatorix and it's looking to be pretty good. Still looking for a beta reader if anyone is interested.

Now I don't know how Galbatorix will be portrayed in the upcoming book, but think of my version as a cross between Darth Vader, the Joker, and fighting an Elite Field Marshall with all the skulls on. He's a human that took down that killed all the riders. Sure the forsworn helped, but Galbatorix was the one who lead them all. For a human to take down elves the guy has to be a badass. So that's why I consider him a cross of those above. If any of you have played Reach's weekly challenges that involve the campaign you know what I'm talking about.

Thanks to all that have reviewed.

This chapter will introduce a few more characters and factions. While brief, this will give me time to iron out the past for each character. If anyone has guessed this story will not end with the defeat of Galbatorix.

I own nothing.

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><p>Tal Requein saw the stars. She had her black raven hair unbraided. She wore a red silken dress of an apprentice seer. Her scepter of power was held loosely in one hand. The scepter was drawn from the root of a century old purified oak tree. The cold had her rubbing her free hand against the dark skin of her other arm.<p>

This was a vision. She saw the heavenly ceiling that had been the Old Ones glory. She stood in a clearing clustered by trees in a mountain range she could not identify. As she continued to stare she saw a star that began to burn more fiercely than the others. The star began to fall bring its fire closer and closer to her. As much as she willed her feet to move to flee an invisible force held her in place. She began to sweet as the she feel the heat of the burning inferno. The animals of the forest began to flee past her to escape the impending danger. Creatures of all shapes and sizes raced past her with the simple thought of preservation. They didn't have enough time.

As she stared up at the incoming star it seemed the sky itself had been split in half as the red burning inferno overwhelmed the peace of night. The mighty trees that been trees that had been their for years burst into flames. Birds that had taken off in-flight fell from the sky completely roasted. The beasts of the land emitted muted screams as their own blood boiled them from the inside. The star struck the ground.

She closed her eyes bracing for the impact. The pressure and heat increased to an unbearable level. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. This was it she reasoned. This was how the world would end.

As the pain ended she opened her eyes surprised at the sudden release. Almost immediately she wished she hadn't. From the smoke and ashes _It_ came. It was big. It was clad in armor that had been scarred in battles that had made any war of this look world look like a child's squabble in comparison. It stalked forward completely ignoring the flames around it. It's golden eye was completely focused on her.

With each step it brought itself into great detail. With each step her vision shifted.

She saw the horrid creations of Paradox come forth from behind the Dark Gate.

Men, women, and children screamed in terror as they ran for their lives from an army that killed them to simply appease their God.

The magnificent capitol of Haven Guard in flames. Smoke, screams, and the scent of blood rose on low moaning winds.

The giant had crossed the expanse that had separated them and stared down at her. She had grown up around Shangelie, dragons, and other creatures larger than this, but it still terrified her. As she stared into the eye she saw her own reflection. It then dawned on her that it was not an eye, but a mirror.

"_Demon."_ was the first word that ran through her mind.

"What are you?" she asked feebly. She dreaded the answer, but had to find out.

"WAR." was the simple answer that came from behind the mask that this mirror face demon said.

Tal awoke in a cold sweat. She felt her face to make sure that this was real. The images she saw had seen continued to play through her mind telling her that this was important. Getting up she realized that the Elder Seers needed to be warned of this impending danger. Just because a vision was seen did not mean that future had to share the same fate.

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><p>Roran walked up to the Spartan who stood at the bow of the Dragon Wing.<p>

"Why do you stay?" Roran asked the immobile Spartan. Surely if the warrior wanted to leave it obviously could call up another of the flying metal contraption.

"There is something of interest for both me and your fellow villagers ahead." the Spartan elusively said as he stared out to the west where dark clouds covered the land. His left hand was on the Turret gun that he had been able from the wreckage of the HAWX, and his right hand drummed on the wood railing of the ship.

"What might it be that might be of interest to us." Roran said using us to refer to the villagers aboard the Dragon Wing.

"To put it simply…your salvation." the Spartan said with the pause added for dramatic effect.

Roran knew of the Varden and their fight against Galbatorix's forces that marched against them. Though he still pondered on the Spartan's words.

Thud, followed by another thud. Roran turned his head to the noise as a cry from above broke the noise of the ragging war ahead. The Spartan already had his longest metal staff pointed at the noise aiming at the blue dragon that dove headlong toward their ship. What he saw he couldn't believe. On top of the dragon sat Eragon. He always hoped that he could convince the Spartan to help to rescue Katrina, but this Eragon he knew was powerful enough to kill the Razac and would help to kill the Razac for the damage that they had caused.

A thought that was not his in origin entered his mind.

"_Roran is that you?"_

"Aye it is me brother."

The Spartan never lowered the Sniper Rifle but turned his head a bit to look at Roran.

"_Think your thoughts and I will hear you. Are all of the villagers here?"_

"_Aye."_ Roran thought thinking the whole situation absurd.

"_Whose that…no never mind flee now and wait till the battle is over."_

"_You have a lot to answer for."_

_\ "Not now later."_

The dragon turned leaving heading back to the thick of the fight. Once the dragon was out of visual range the Spartan turned to Roran.

"Brother?" he asked the question.

"Yes, Eragon, the one on the dragon's back is my brother." Roran responded truthfully.

"He wanted you to turn away didn't he."

"Yes."

"Are we?"

"I have a feeling that even if the captain turned this boat around you and I would just jump over aboard, paddle our way to shore and kill anything that moves." Roran said with a grin.

If the Spartan wasn't wearing his helmet Roran would have seen the young man grinning.

Eragon stared at Murtagh with a mixture of confusion and anger. Murtagh paid Eragon no mind as he watched Roran advance on the unknowing Twins. What Eragon was expecting was Roran to burst from his cover among the dead bodies, but the gray giant the he had seen earlier completely surprised and horrified him. It charged with speed that surpassed even the fastest elf. A long four metal staff it held spat out thunder that ripped men to pieces. The twins regarded this new threat and responded with a fire ball. The gray figure raised the rod like staff to intercept the blast. Fire surrounded the gray armored individual. Rather than fall down and writhe in agony the figure abandoned the metal rod and kept charging the Twins. Their surprise matched that of both Eragon and Murtagh. Grabbing a second rod, this one shorter than the other it fired into the twins and the soldiers around them. All of them fell to the ground dead.

"Most interesting." Murtagh spoke after the slaughter of the Twins at the gray giant's hands.

"ERAGON!" Roran called seeing his brother at Murtagh's mercy.

The mighty gray giant whipped it's head to Roran and then their way, it's focus completely on Murtagh.

Sensing imminent danger Murtagh placed additional barriers around himself. His senses proved true as little arrowhead like metals met his barriers before falling to the ground no longer a threat. Concentration and anger burned on Murtagh's face as he poured more and more energy into holding off the arrowheads that the grey giant fired his way. All the time the giant was closing the distance between him and Murtagh.

The giant paused in it's assault to take out a flat container of the metal rod before slamming in another.

Taking the advantage of the momentary lapse Murtagh retreated to his red dragon taking Eragon's red blade with him.

"We shall meet again brother!" Murtagh called as his dragon took flight.

The spell that had been holding Saphira at bay levitated and she rushed to his side. Slowing down before them the giant regarded them carefully before turning his attention to the fleeing red dragon.

Cheers of the Varden told Eragon of their victory, but all he felt was loss.

* * *

><p>Jordan stood still in front of the Varden Leader's tent, the various species that made up the Varden's guards stared at him with uneasiness. They had heard rumors at what he had done to Galbatorix's troops and rightfully feared him so. A wizard, a demon, a god? These were the words that he had heard to describe himself.<p>

Not that any of these things mattered to him, his full attention was on the tent. He was analyzing the energy field that had surrounded the tent and decreased the power of the voices. If it wasn't for his ears that could hear a needle drop in a sandstorm he would have been completely left out of the loop. All the while the group of humans or humanoids, and dragon thought that they're conversation was private.

The information he had heard didn't surprise him, but left him more confused about the pivotal figures of the land. A small smile was brought to his lips as Roran told them of the new warrior, wizard, or whatever Spartan was and what it represented.

The energy field decapitated and the occupants left except for the leader of the Varden and a woman with pointy ears that he guessed was Ayra.

"So you're the warrior that Roran told us about."

The Spartan said nothing but merely nodded his head in approval.

"Come we have much to discuss." the dark lady said beckoning him forth.

The Varden's guards let him pass. The chamber inside the tent was spacious and well decorated. Too much for the Spartan's taste.

"So warrior…" she paused, how did one address one by name if one did not know it?

"My name is Jordan Gamma Spartan-267, Lady Nasuda leader of the Varden." Jordan said in a level voice. He couldn't say he was apart of the UNSC anymore.

"How did you know…" she said clearly surprised at the soldier recognizing her name and position.

"Your concealment of your previous conversation may work on others but not me."

The facial expression on both women turned toward that of surprise. The tent had been concealed magically. How could this behemoth of a man, that if he was a man, have heard them?

Jordan held up a hand silencing them both saying "I have no intention of telling anyone what happened here."

They both turned to each other briefly, an unspoken conversation communicated between the two. This was one conversation he could not listen too. Turning back their heads to regard him the white lady spoke first.

"While we appreciate your help in pushing back Galbatorix's soldiers but we know nothing of yourself and your actions."

"I am a stranger in this land as you can see, so I am seeking asylum amongst the warring groups. I chose your group because you're not an all powerful dictator…yet." he said to Nasuaa letting the last word hang.

Nasuda complemented what the warrior said and responded "I have no intention of being or becoming a _dictator_." she mouthed the unknown word carefully. "My purpose is to protect my people and remove Galbatorix from his kingdom and establish a more humane rule."

"I see…you promise not to harm to the innocent men, women, and children of Galbatorix?"

"I would never hurt the innocent!" she responded with an anger so quick that shocked the young Spartan.

"Alright I'll help you." the Spartan said flatly.

Nasuda looked at him curiously at this sudden offer before saying "If you let Ayra or one of my wizard check your mind I will give you sanctuary."

"No. My mind has secrets that I will kill to keep." he responded firmly.

"Then how can I trust you? I don't even know what you look like. For all I know you could be one of Galbatroix's spies."

Jordan frowned at Nasuda's questioning, granted it was fair as she was dealing with an unknown element. Ayra and Nasuda watched as the large man removed his helmet. Both were curious as to the man underneath the helmet. What they saw shocked them to the core. The warrior could have been taken as Eragon's twin. There were differences however. The man was a little taller and had a few more years on him. Jordan bore three scars on his cheeks two on the left and one on the right. One difference that held both ladies attention was the absolutely blue eyes. The intensity of his eyes seemed to hold back the burning fire of his will that had kept him sane in trials of anguish and seen great, but terrible things.

"This is my deal. I will help you and take orders only from you if they don't compromise previous orders or the lives of the innocents. "

Nasuda's face turned sour and Ayra's remained unreadable.

"Fine, Spartan I'll take your deal. You are under my command, and subject to my orders as long as they don't count against your previous orders." she responded with a wry smile.

For some reason Jordan did not trust that smile but accepted the deal none the less. Unknowingly the Spartan had just entered the deadly game of politics. To bad for the politicians he believed any problem could be solved with proper application of a bullet or nuke.

* * *

><p>High above the Varden camp a dragon and her rider examined the recent battle. When both had heard the cries of war they had raced here only to find that they were to late.<p>

"_Damn I really wanted to kill some of those filthy humans." _the deep rumbling mental voice of Winterstorm entered Shakii.

"You'll have your chance my beauty." Shakii the elf responded rubbing the back of the purple dragon.

"_But why do we have to align ourselves with the other group of filthy humans?" _Winterstorm said almost whining.

"The Queen requests this of us. And I shall do as our beloved queen commands, as should you."

"_Fine but if the little brat's try to touch you I will rip their skull and kill their children."_ he responded flatly.

The female elf gripped her precious cargo as they descended to the Varden camp. Cries of alarm went up, but it was to late as the large purple dragon landed next to Nasuda's tent.

Three beings rushed out two of them with weapons leveled.

"Greeting I am Shakii of the Elvin nation, I come to join you in your battle."

* * *

><p>The Spartan stared at the two new conscripts in the advance against Galbatorix with mixed feelings. He still had trouble believing that dragons and magic existed on this planet. If it hadn't been for the two twins that had tried to roast him alive he may have accounted magic just to superstition. It was something worth looking into.<p>

Looking to both of their eyes he could begin to discern their personalities. The dragon was too blood thirsty for his tastes as well as the elf Shakii. They looked like they could do some real damage though. For some reason Shakii's demeanor seemed eerily familiar. He stood resolute next to Nasuda's throne with Ayra on the opposite side.

He had noted that Ayra seemed just as surprised about the Dragon Rider as the rest of them. Apparently being the princess of the Elvin nation did not mean she knew all of her peoples' secrets.

"Yes, Winterstorm and I wish to wage battle on the filthy humans that desecrate the land." the female Elf stated proudly.

Jordan noted that she said human as if it was a derogatory term. If this elf and dragon proved to be violently racist against humans then they were going to have a problem.

"While we are grateful…" Nasuda spoke.

"As you should be. "Shakii interrupted.

"Yes as I was saying." Nasuada spoke in a calm manner that belied her real emotions. "While we are grateful for all the help that Islanzadi sends us. I must ask why are you being brought to us after the battle, not before."

Shakii's face turned rather sour as if she found the question insulting. Jordan noticed Ayra tense just the same as Shakii. He brushed his hand against the hilt of the pistol. If Shakii was about to throw a fireball like the twins had done he wanted to be ready. The rapid coiling and uncoiling of her dragon did not ease the Spartan one bit.

"I have struck down those with much greater authority than you who have questioned my courage." Shakii said almost trembling with rage. "As to why I have arrived after the battle, I came barring a message from the Queen herself."

Ayra spoke in a language that Jordan did not understand. It almost sounded like Latin. More and more the Spartan thought that the Forerunner had a hand in all of this.

" _If it was the Forerunner's, could…"_

He put all thoughts aside to made sure that the built in camera was recording the entire conversation. Later he would send the recording to the AI to hopefully decode the language.

Whatever Ayra had said worked as Shakii and Winterstorm both visibly relaxed. The Spartan however did not as his hand did not draw away from the pistol.

"The message is a private matter." Shakii spoke turning her annoyed gaze to the still tense Spartan.

"Jordan, you are excused. We will converse at another time" Nasuada said turning to him.

"Ma'am." The Spartan saluted automatically. Years of service had drilled this simple action into him. "As long as it leaves too." he added. He was fairly confident he could take the dragon by himself but he would not leave Nasuda alone at the possibility that Shakii and dragon proved to be hostile. Thus it was his reasoning that if he was going to leave it was going to leave.

Winterstorm growled almost as if it had understood what he had said. Jordan felt a hostile intrusion into his mind much like that of his encounter with the Gravemind. It set his hairs on end. He retaliated much like he had done before when the Flood leader had entered his mind. The dragon flinched as if it had been struck. Shaii cried out in shock and went to Winterstorm.

"It is a **he**!" she spoke enraged while she cradled Winterstorm's massive head.

"Really from the coloration I thought it was a female." Jordan spoke clearly surprised at being wrong. He thought a dragons' coloration was also tied in with gender.

"I should kill you!" Shakii said drawing her lavender blade.

"Greater powers have tried." he responded drawing his pistol in one hand and Katana in the other.

"Shakii enough! Calm down before you embarrass yourself further." Ayra commanded clearly annoyed by the Rider's behavior.

"But…" she stammered.

Ayra's gaze remained firm and unflinching.

"Winterstorm wait outside." Shakii finally spoke.

The dragon continued to stare at the Spartan in with furious eyes before turning away. Turning back to Nasuada he handed her a radio with a brief description on how it worked.

"Ma'am." Jordan saluted one more time before tailing the dragon out of the tent. He passed Shakii who tightened her grip on her blade. As a Spartan he was able to show more restraint.

Upon exiting the tent the Spartan felt the unwelcome gaze of the dragon on the back of his head. Turning his head he matched the dragon's glare.

"_This is not over, human."_ came a deep baritone voice laced with venom.

"Fine Miss Winterstorm." he spoke casually to the dragon who issued a snort of fire.

The Spartan turned and head away from the tent wanting to head back to the _Forever in His Hands_ and restock on supplies.

* * *

><p><strong>To:<strong>Worldstrider. I thought your idea was good, but for my Spartan's past that kind of choice would have been harder for me to write. I will reveal is past in the upcoming chapters that lead to him making this choice. I have planned for an elven pairing.

With Tal I need someone to connect the story to the forementioned Haven Guard. So I had her envision the Spartan's entrance on the planet. Granted it was a few chapters late, but visions are fickle things.

If the elves had hid Oromis it stand to reason that they could have hid others so I created Shakii and Winterstorm. I imagined that not all the elves would be to pleased at having their asses hand to them by humans so I had these two to be racist against humans. Wonder how Eragon, Ayra, and Nasuda will deal with a racist Rider and dragon with a Spartan completely devoted to the protection of humanity.

All reviews are welcomed.


	5. A Spartan's duty

Hey guys sorry about the long delay. Been distracted lately and things haven't been going as I had planned. Now however I have been able to dive a little more into my OC charcters in background to give you hopefully a better flushed out world. In this chapter we will see that Spartans are more than just killing machines.

Have plenty of hits, but would like more reviews.

* * *

><p>The Child of Tears, as Paradox had named her, stared out across the sea out toward the horizon. She had the Monocular in one hand. The Monocular opened much like a diamond ring box, not that such material possessions interested her. The top of the box had an optical lens with the Seventh Colum in gold. The bottom of the box was a fusion of magic and gears. As she shifted her hand the device shifted properly to point them in the direction of their destination.<p>

Vaguely she recalled the story Paradox had told her of the forging of the Monocular. It had been made in the era of Many Gods before they were exterminated by an unknown dark force. The gods whittled down until only one remained. When the last of the Gods rose he combated the darkness with all that he possessed. In the end the God won and the evil was exterminated or fled into the dark. However the God's wounds were to great so it sealed itself away to heal, not before forging the Monocular with the directions in it's old language how it was to be used.

"_The blood of those children who had proven themselves. The blood of a Reclaimer. Shall awaken me once more to ascend the masses."_

"What is our heading Mistress Tears." came the crackly edged voice of the Captain of the ship.

Tears didn't break her composure as she turned around to face Captain Redwater as he was called. The worst embodiment of humans as far as she was concerned. He was the captain of the _Nevermore II. _He was a pirate who had been converted to the ways of Paradox. He had been a ruthless pirate that had killed men, woman, and children to get his demented giggles. Trade extended from coinage, weapons, and flesh. His cold hard green eyes stared back at her with out fear. His skin had been tanned to old leather from the abusive elements of the life at sea. His black beard was messy and unkempt much like his clothes. He was wore a red coat with golden trim with the hat to match. Her mask hid her death glare but her voice was coated with a toxic venom.

"Captain Redwater the heading has not changed. If it had I would have notified you. Since it hasn't you may return to your post before I decide for someone more competent to take your place."

Redwater drew his magically endowed cutlass from its sheath. Tears did not know by what magic it was enchanted with except that it oozed blood but never spilled a single drop. It was a gift from Paradox himself as a reward for the Captain's enlightenment of the better way.

"Listen to me woman I am the Captain of this ship! No one will replace me! There is no lead except for that of my own. So if I were you girl I would treat me with more respect before I decide to…" Redwater never had the chance to finish his threat as a clawed hand wringed his throat.

The Captain was hoisted off his feet to face the 10-foot tall Legion Commander of the Long Arms. For once fear flashed in the Captain's eyes. Few ever got to stare into the red eyes of a Long Arm. A Long Arm was Paradox's envisionment of Sangheili perfection. They looked the exact same save for the Long Arms extraordinary arms. The arms hung down to their feet and had the ability to extend a fourth of a bow shot. Long Arms used no weapons save for the spikes and ridges on their armor. The Long Arms were the BLACK DOOR's shock troops. Known by all and feared by all.

"You would do well to remember your place. If we wanted this ship all we would need to do was awaken the two hundred the slumber beneath our feet."

The Legion Commander dropped the Captain like a sack of potatoes disgusted at actually having to touch the filth. "You are dismissed." he said with a backwards kick to the still recovering Captain.

"Your assistance was unnecessary Commander." she spoke softly turning back to sea.

"Understood ma'am." was his response as he came to stand beside her.

"What do you think our chances of success are?" he enquired as he came to stand beside her.

"Much less if Haven Guard finds out." was her immediate response. She prayed to the last God that none of their visioners had seen of the key's coming.

* * *

><p>The Varden camp was in a bustle of activity even after the slaughter that took place. The injured were being hustled from the battlefield to healers. Men groaned in anguish at the grievances of their wounds or gave one final breath. Wails, cries of disbelief, and mourning were all sang in concert around the Spartan. He had grown accustomed to death and was numb to the pain around him. Though deep down inside himself he could relate as he had also known loss. With a precise eye he looked over the individuals who were attended out in the streets as the tents had already been filled. From a simple glimpse he could see who stood a chance of making it and who didn't. It was strange seeing such rudimentary skill being used to save lives. Most of the injured would die from infection rather than succumb to wounds. Back in his training he could recall his lessons of history of how infection was the highest cause of mortality up until the 20th century. Briefly he wondered if magic would increase the chances of survival of these men. As he continued to make his way out of the camp he mentally smacked himself. He was a Spartan damn it. The sword and shield of humanity. To protect humanity didn't end at firing weapon.<p>

With newly found purpose he contacted the AI. "I'm sending you a video package. I want the language decoded as fast as possible. Start with cross referencing it with Latin and Forerunner languages in the database. I want several Albatrosses loaded with medical supplies and equipment necessary to construct a Field Hospital. Along with a small armory."

REQUEST ACKNOWLEDGED SUPPLIES WILL BE THERE IN TWO HOURS. PLAYING DOCTOR ARE WE?

"Make it one." he commanded.

Turning back he went to help those in dire need. He didn't have much on him, but hopefully enough to keep the soldiers alive until the Field Hospital was set up.

Entering back into the mayhem he watched as healers bustled back and forth amongst the wounded. Reaching out he grabbed what he guess would be the equivalent of a nurse. The woman turned to face him with anger that quickly died as she saw him.

"Where is the most heavily wounded? Those that healers aren't attending too." he asked. Even with all the UNSC's advancements there were still those that medics would label as too much of a lost cause to be worth their time. It was the same in every war.

The woman was to shocked to answer but simply pointed. He nodded his thanks and released her. By following her directions he knew he had found where he needed to be when he met the stench. There were only a few people up and about attending to the needs of the dying.

"Tell me stranger have you come to morn or give comfort?" a crackly voice asked.

Turning to the owner of said voice he found an old grey haired woman clothed in white. She kneeled next to a black haired youth who didn't even look above fifteen. The boy's breathing was shallow and erratic. His eyelids flickered open and closed as he vainly clung to life. Blood smeared his face and blood had already stained his bandages a deep crimson.

"I used to be a healer…but I'm old…to old to be of any use to the others. All I can do now is grant the dying peace. How many hands have I clasped to comfort? How many eyes have I stared into to see the fire of life be snuffed out? Far too many, but I remember every face. Now this young one has been brought before me. My grandson. He is all that I have left. His mother and father were taken away by war. When I took him into my care I prayed to the Gods that I would not see him here. Alas it was not to be so. I do not hate him for his choice. He followed the will of his heart. So much like his father. I've told this to everyone that I have met that they can recite it by heart. He has the eyes of his mother and the dreams of his father." small drops of liquid began to form at the edge of the woman's green eyes.

A heavy hand clasped her shoulder and she turned back up to face the giant. She stared directly into the golden visor completely unafraid. She saw what the giant saw.

"I came to save." was the soft answer.

Lifting his head up to the tent he called upon his will to flow through his voice.

"LISTEN UP!" he roared. Those on the verge of slipping away from conscious were called back by the command of the voice. All heads turned to face the terrifying giant.

"I can save these people, but I need help. Will you help me?" he asked to those who worked amongst the dying.

"Who are you?" a man with graying old hair boomed striding to the Spartan tears running down his face. "Who are you coming in here giving false hope?"

The Spartan moved to face the man who questioned him.

"I am not lying. I can save them." he said advancing on the old man.

The man to his credit did not retreat, but felt much smaller as the giant stood in front of him. It took him a second for him to gain control of his mouth.

"Many a man have walked in here boasting the same thing only to steal the hope of the dying." he stared firmly into the Spartan's polarized visor.

"Sogen he has come to help, we should at least let him try." the old woman said coming to stand beside the Spartan.

"We don't even know who he is Mirra." said as Sogen he glared fiercely at her, but it melted as he stared into her desperate eyes.

"Fine what do you need sir." he asked defeated.

"I need these people ready for transport. To a destination outside of the camp. "

"We need more people." Sogen responded business-like.

"I will get more people." the Spartan said turning on his heels.

Sogen watched the armored giant leave. He heard the conviction in the voice that came from behind the helmet. Maybe, just maybe this was a man of his word.

"You heard him!" he snapped to the others.

The Spartan walked through the camp with a purpose. He needed more hands and he would damn well get it. He followed his ears to the sounds of singing. Walking into a great tent he saw it alive with activity as men recuperated with ale.

"_Some things never change. Or change across the stars."_ he thought.

These were not the men he needed. Turning his head to the quieter corners he found the ones he wanted. In a darker corner as far away from the sound as possible this group sat together nursing their drinks. He found what he wanted. The Spartan didn't take notice as the singing immediately died as everyone stopped to watch him. He stopped before the huddled drinkers.

"Men of the Varden I need your help. I, a soldier like you understand the grievances of loss, of losing a brother in arms, but now I ask you to rise. I need your help to save those that can still be saved. So that others may not know this pain, or at least have it lessen." he spoke to them. Not caring that most continued to stare into their drinks.

One turned to face him. He had a bead that went down to his waist. The Spartan was surprised as of the height of this being as it barely came up to his waist. He kept his mouth shut as he guessed was a dwarf approached.

"You ask for help while we grieve over those we have lost? To save those on the verge of death" the dwarf slurred.

"Yes." was Jordan's response.

The dwarf proceeded to drain his drink. Then he wiped his mouth of the ale that missed his mouth.

"Then what are we waiting for?" the dwarf asked. The assortment of men and dwarves finished their own drinks and turned to face him.

"The name's Mattock of clan Durgrimst Ingeitum." the dwarf extended his hand which the Spartan shook.

Following that the Spartan left with an assortment of races behind him. They crossed through the camp getting many stares from those who had the time to look. Sorgen and Mirra turned to face the group as they entered.

"So…how can we help?" Mattock asked.

The sight of several of metal objects flying through the air was a sobering sight to all those present. Soldiers of the Varden went to their weapons and the dragons took flight. It took the Spartan several minutes talking to Nasuada to get things back under control.

The natives were wary of the robotic dollies at first, but relaxed when they found out that they were not a threat. Under the Spartan's command they emptied the entire tent. As the last of the dying entered the Field Hospital Mirra rushed to the Spartan and caught him by the arm. To the Spartan it spoke volumes of bravery. Not many would be able to stand next to a Spartan unafraid. Even fewer still would try to physically deter them. Maybe it was out of ignorance that she didn't know what he was capable of.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

"Pray to your Gods." he responded.

Mirra watched as the Spartan walked into the light of the Field Hospital before the doors closed shut after him. She sat down and began to pray. She wasn't the only one as the dwarf Mattock sat beside her.

* * *

><p>Well now I know it wasn't a very interesting chapter, but I am building to better battles.<p>

Also I'm deciding of making a pole as to whether Jordan should give the riders UNSC technology. It won't be weaponry if that is what anyone is wondering. I was thinking mostly armor and medical supplies. The Spartan may be allied with the Varden by that doesn't mean he will give them access to his technology.

By the way can anyone guess who or what this last God could be?

Also I'm not bashing any religion or having it reflect any religion. Just saying that upfront incase anyone got that idea.

Still loking for a beta reader.


	6. A healing hand or not

I'm back...from outer space! No, not really, but for as long as I've been gone it could have been. Anyways thank you to those who wanted me to keep publishing. I will try to finish this story, but it would help to have more reviews.

I'm happy to say that I have finally decided on the course I want to take after Galbatroix stroy arc. Granted that's still aways away.

Enough small talk I know what you came for.

* * *

><p>Tal Requien made her apperance before the Nightwatch Council. As the Chamber of Seers had constant elder and students subjecting themselves to Envisionment a Daywatch and Nightwatch had been created to respond and check the severity of each vision. Each watch consisted of Havenguard's military and commoner consultants. The military consultants consisted of Ground, Naval, and Aerial forces. The commoner consultants were Seers, Forgers, Suppliers, and Craftors.<p>

The six seats were elevated above the floor. Each seat had a round balcony for which each member may organize mission's necessary for each vision. All of the races of Haven Guard were present.

"My fellow Councilors, I have had a vision of most dire consequences if left unchecked." Tal began.

"Really, finally had a vision have we?" came the demeaning remark from Nightwatch Councilor Supplier Omni Strongarm.

Tal turned to regard her fellow human with a controlled face. As with any foreboding vision each Seer still had to appeal to the politics of council. Politics had never been her strong suit.

"Yes. One that you should take heed." she said trying to suppress the bite in her voice.

"What was the contents of your vision?" the Army Nightwatch Councilor Reager Suagumee. The Sangheili was direct and to the point.

Tal took a deep breath and let the memories come to her. She began with the a star falling from the sky before saying that the army of the Dark Gate stormed the capital. She believed it wise to start with this first as it would most likely capture the attention of the Councilors. Catch their attention it did, as most scoffed at the notion. She then added the detail of nothing less than what she considered to be a demon. Surprisingly this grabbed the attention of the council as they hung onto her every word.

"WAR? Whatever this creature is it surely thinks highly of itself. If it exists." Omni spoke scornfully.

Tal narrowed her eyes in frustration. Omni had always had a distaste for Seers, but this was beginning to cross the line.

"As much as I hate to admit it Omni has a point." Strauss Stewart the Naval Councilor spoke up. "None of the other seers have had a vision quite like yours. Besides visions of the destruction of Havenguard have been spoken for thousands of years."

"None of the Seers have had visions like this…which is all the more reason it should be looked into." a strong aged voice spoke up capturing everyone in the room.

The owner of the voice was none other than head seer Odin Orion. Rarely had he ever spoken amongst the Council.

"You can't be serious? From what little information we have gained we have no idea as to where to look for this 'demon'." Omni spoke heatedly.

"Many of our most famous seers have had a vision that only they have had. As to where to look I might have an idea from young Tal's description."

"Where then?" Reager asked cutting Omni off.

"Across the wild sea." he said bluntly. The following silence was deafening.

"Across the wild sea? Are you mad? The last time anyone was sent over they never came back. For all we know they could have fallen off the edge of the world." Ingmentium the Aerial Leader asked. The old dragon looked flabbergasted. Well as far as Tal could tell he was flabbergasted.

"I can assure Ingmentium that I am not mad. As to why none came back…maybe they didn't have a reason too." Odin said unruffled by the accusations of madness.

"So you're saying the sole reason no one came back was because they chose not too?" Omni asked skeptically.

"Yes." Odin responded before turning to Tal. "Tal my dear, please return to your quarters. You ship out tomorrow when the tides come in."

"You can't be serious!" Omni interrupted. "The cost of such an expeditionary force to venture across those waters is ungodly expensive. Such a cost would be a massive blow to the economy."

Tal's hope of seeking out her vision as many of the other Councilor's muttered in agreement.

"It doesn't have to be an expeditionary force. One ship will suffice to go out and confirm Tal's vision. As to paying for the expedition I have enough coinage to cover it." Odin said as calm as ever despite the sea of doubts that surrounded him.

Omni was actually shocked into silence by this show of charity. Odin said nothing, but the thin wisps of a smile could be seen from under his beard.

"We still have to decide on the ship and military escorts." Stewart said removing any doubt that Tal's quest would be embarked upon.

"As to that I have already a selection in mind." he spoke referring to each councilor.

Surprisingly each nodded to Odin, accepting that he had control. Odin turned to Tal and waved her off back to her chambers. Tal turned back the way she came a childish smile on her face. For the first time she would be embarking on a vision.

Had she known the consequences that her actions would unfold she might have not been so joyful.

* * *

><p>Long after the others had gone to sleep Mirra stayed behind praying for her son. She prayed to the gods once more that the stranger could save her son. She stayed on her knees clasped in prayer as the moon made it cycle across the sky and the stars began to fade from view. The cold of the desert seeped into her bones, but she remained where she was. Her will alone gave the warmth she needed. It gave her the sustenance she needed to stay awake the entire night.<p>

As the first rays of the dawning sun began to rise the doors to the Field Hospital opened with a soft whoosh. Mirra looked up hoping for the best, expecting the worst. There before her stood her grandson and a host of others. All of them looked tiered, beaten, but amazed to be alive. Seeing her the boy began to move toward her with tears in his eyes. She rose up to meet him as if the stiffness in her limbs had never existed They met each other half way embracing each other lovingly. Uncaring of the on lookers around them each broke down in tears of joy.

As the warmth of the sun touched her Mirra looked up to see the Spartan standing just outside the doors. His emotions on his face were loss to her. She looked at the reflective visor and seeing both of them in the loving embrace. As he turned and headed back in to those that still needed his attention Mirra thanked the good man that he was. Deep down she hoped the Spartan knew that he was a good man. Unbeknownst to her the Spartan did not think anything of himself other than what he had done and failed to do. He was too clouded by his past to see all the good he was doing in the present.

Jordan turned back into the Field Hospital to attend to his other patients. Well, he couldn't say most of them were his as the medical dollies took most of the work. The patients he had just let loose, after a very through explanation to drink plenty of water and eat heartily, were suffering of blood loss which was an easy thing to fix with blood bags stored in the _Forever in His Hands_. The boy had suffered a severe cut, but with the UNSC's level of medical technology he had it treated within the hour of administering treatment.

"How's the DNA categorizing coming?" he asked the Watcher.

Once more the A.I. produced the lettering on the inside of his helmet. Briefly he wondered why the A.I. was incapable of speech. All current A.I.'s that he knew of were equipped with speaking software.

HAVE FINISHED DNA READING OF HUMANS, DWARVES, AND URGALS

"Good. Can we begin treatment on the non-humans?"

ALREADY STARTED FLASH CLONNING LIMBS

The Spartan just nodded with satisfaction. He was surprised when he had received several dwarves and a few Urgals. With the two races he had no idea how their system would respond to his current treatments so he did the best he could with keeping them alive. So far none had yet to die. Technically he could bring them back to life as the UNSC had done it before on multiple occasions, but he would rather not waste the resources. Also it could be considered unethical by the people that he treated. As far as the Spartan was concerned his day had not ended or begun as he had a long list of things to do.

In the following day he attached several freshly grown arms and legs. He worked like a machine moving from one body to the next. He performed surgery on ten humans, four dwarves, and one Urgal. With the care of a demolition expert he attached the nerve ending of the respective recipient to the cloned limb. He had nearly lost one dwarf as he had under valued the dosage required to put him under. The Spartan had use his entire weight to keep the dwarf from hurting himself and…well maybe just to protect the dwarf. It took several seconds of struggle before a medical dolly applied the proper dose to put the dwarf back under. After that fiasco he made sure to apply an ample amount.

The Spartan stood in the Field Hospital's command center taking a break from surgery to recuperate. He drank a caffeine shot used by Navy personal on occasions requiring long durations of high alertness. The Spartan had begun to feel weary after the many surgeries that required his attention. In truth he could have the WATCHER assign one of the Surgeon droids to handle it, but he was limited in the number of the droids he had and their where many who required treatment. Besides this had given him the chance to see up close the three races that were dominant in the Varden.

Surprisingly and unsurprisingly the humans of this planet held no outstanding genetic differences from Earth's pre-Faster-Than-Light era. From the DNA readings of the other two races he made a discovery that would shock all of the races. The dwarves and Urgals had DNA characteristics that matched humanities in several key points. Granted there were still major differences. However if all the races present on the planet evolved naturally than it was possible that humans, dwarves, Urgals, and elves all shared a common ancestor. As to that theory Jordan doubted it, as their was to much of a Forerunner presence for this to have been a coincidence. There was no possible way humans could have developed naturally on separate planets. He had often wondered why the Forerunners had put all their eggs in one basket and put humanity on just one planet. It would make much more sense to distribute humanity on a broad scale to ensure a planet's destruction didn't kill off all of humanity and leave the Halo's without one to activate them.

As he swigged his drink he looked at a three dimensional build of an Urgal on a holo table. The image was generated using the DNA pattern of the blood sample that he had obtained. This unique feature had allowed doctors of the UNSC to view the human body from multiple angles. Another unique feature was that it could remove different layers so that doctors could get a better look at their patients. Jordan studied the body as one would treat an Urgal and how to take one down if necessary. He followed the old age philosophy that if you knew how it worked you knew how to break it. The Urgal was a thick skin raced whose strength was just below par of a Spartan. Like a human they had similar pressure point locations, but were fewer in number thanks to a redundant nervous system. It would definitely be harder to take this creature down in hand to hand combat, but not impossible.

FINISHED PATIENT EVALUATION. CAN RELEASE PATIENTS IN ROOM 001 TO 009.

As he stared down at the list of rooms he recalled the races that would be released. That would be two humans, five dwarves, and the last two Urgals. Good that would leave him with a manageable number of eighteen he though brief subtracting the number that he would be able to release. He figured he would start with the humans and finish with the Urgals. Among the three races under his care the Urgals were the ones most violent upon waking.

Finishing his drink he took his helmet from the holotable and headed out the door. Rushing hair hissed by the Spartan's face as the armor resealed.

"_Back to work."_ He thought absentmindedly. _"Still prefer a firefight over this though."_

As per usual as his patients came too they were disoriented and confused. He woke them up one at a time so he could deal with each one individually. The reason he had kept his patients under was two fold. It allowed them to ignore some of the pain that was standard with recuperation, and it made them much easier to deal with rather than if they had been conscious. It may have been unethical, but Jordan never took the oath so it didn't bother him.

He had awaken the dwarves and humans first as they were easier to deal with. Like clock work when the dwarves or humans were waking up they would curse at their grogginess before he stepped into view. Their eyes would go wide with fear. While they were still coming out of their drug induced coma they would panic and try to get away. To the Spartan it would have been comical had he not spent hours trying to save them. It took several minutes but eventually he was able to calm them down. The fact that they weren't meeting their creator convinced them of his sincerity.

Now it was onto the Urgals. _"Oh, joy." _thought the Spartan.

The Field Hospital was rather open as the anti-bacteria field reduced the chances of infection to almost zero. However, the designers knew that it was good to have quarantined areas designed in case of serious emergencies. This quarantine sector was where he had stored the Urgals as it was more reinforced than the other areas. Upon entering the room he saw the two Urgals sprawled over their respective beds. Both beds hydralics were strained to keep the muscled beings up.

Jordan stared at the two unable to tell which he should wake up first. Waking them both up at the same time was a foolish move. He could handle them sure, but that didn't mean he wanted to. The one on his right was bigger, but the one on his left was smaller but bore more scars. So the smaller one was either the more foolish fighter or the more aggressive of the two.

He reasoned that he would start with the small one as it would probably be easier to deal with. With an unspoken command the Watcher began to wake up the Urgal that the Spartan began to walk to. He examined the heart monitor as the frequency of the Urgals heart beat began to increase dramatically.

The Urgals eyes fluttered open and closed. It moved its horned head side to side to shake its vision clear. Arms and legs began to flex. Jordan stayed a ways back just out of arm length before addressing the Urgal.

"Hey, can you hear me?"

The Urgal drowsily moved its head toward him. It's eyes dilated as the Urgal brought him into focus.

"How you…" the Spartan never got to finish his sentence as anger flashed across the Urgal's face. Once more he had misjudged the creature's of this land as the Urgal rose quicker than he could react and hit him right in the chest. Jordan stumbled backwards under the blow. By his standards the blow was weak as it didn't even buckle his unshielded armor and the only reason the Urgal got a lucky hit was because he wasn't expecting it to recover so quickly.

Looking back up he saw the Urgal getting ready to charge him. He hadn't bothered restraining them as none of the restraints he had would fit around them. The Urgal gave a low bellow before charging forward. As the Urgal hadn't fully recovered so it stumbled as it sped toward him. Painfully slow by his standards. The Urgal pulled back its hand for another blow while Jordan remained unmoved as he recalled the pressure points on an Urgal body. The punch came forward and the Spartan ducked under it. With cobra like quickness the Spartan responded his own counter attack with a blow, square on the Urgals chin. The Urgal's head snapped back by the "light" smack that he had given it. With it caught off guard he danced his finger across the Urgal's chest hitting where he guessed the pressure points would be. The Urgals fell to the ground.

"Good to see that my guess was correct."

CORRECT? THAT YOU COULD LAY HIM OUT FLAT WITH ONE HIT? WHAT WAS ALL THAT TICKLING FOR THEN? The Watcher communicated to him.

"It was a light blow. That tickling as you call was me hitting his pressure points." Jordan responded back clearly annoyed.

A LIGHT BLOW? I THINK YOU BROKE HIS FREAKING NECK!

"I didn't hit him that hard."

SEVERAL OF HIS TEETH ARE ON THE FLOOR AND HE HAS BLOOD COMING OUT HIS NOSE!

"He's still breathing." the Spartan responded flatly.

YOU HAVE A HORRIBLE BED SIDE MANOR.

Jordan moved to the next giving this time more room between him and the much larger Urgal. The Urgal twitched it's head side to side before raising itself on its bed. It brought its right hand up to meet its face. Its eyes snapped open as it stared amazed at the limb.

"You don't know how much it was of a pain it was to reattach it."

The Urgal snapped its attention to him still amazed.

"By the Gods! What magic is this? I had lost my entire arm yet here it is whole." looking to him for an answer.

Jordan had his half way open as he was going to explain the process but then closed it as he thought the level of knowledge would go right over the Urgal's head.

"Let's not worry about that. You have your arm back and that's all that matters."

"How can I ever repay you?" asked the Urgal sincerely.

Jordan found this surprising as that these creatures would be more akin to Brutes. It was nice to see something that could rip a man in half that at least had manners.

"You can carry him." Jordan said jerking a thumb at the still unconscious Urgal.

"What did you do? It looks like you broke his freaking neck."

Jordan snorted unamused as the Watcher sent a message of HAHA LOL LOL LOL HAHA.

* * *

><p>Reviews please. I like to know the ideas and thoughts of my readers.<p>

Their will be an Eragon and Ayra pairing. Their will be both serious and humerous interactions between Shakii and Jordan.

2 good 2 kill signing off.


	7. The plot thickens

And I am back! Sorry for the long delay for all of those that have waited. I've been catching up with friends, trying to stay afloat in college, and read Inheritance. I am however committed to finishing this story no matter how long it will take me.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except OC's…damn it.

Tal Requien had not gone to sleep as Odin had recommended but rather she had already packed her things and was currently waiting in her chambers staring impatiently at her door. To keep herself relatively amused as she waited she used an old magic training regiment by levitating several different sized rocks in an intricate pattern of motion. She only did it with one hand as her other toyed with her curly brown hair. When the door opened violently followed by a booming crash she lost concentration and the rocks bounced off her hand. She stifled a yelp by biting the sides of her cheek.

In front of her stood none other than Odin himself.

"Sorry my dear." he said startled himself "The doors use to be heavier in my day."

Tal was surprised by two things. First that it was Odin himself who had come to see her and how much strength he possessed. The door was so heavy that Tal had to use magic to open it.

"It is time." he said beckoning her from her room.

Taking her staff and her belongings she made her way toward Odin. When she reached the portal she turned back to her room. Her room while decorated was not as lavished as those from the noble or wealthy classes. The room had fine linen on the bed, drapes, and clothing. A mirror hung next to her bed above the drawer that housed the few scents and oils. Tal in truth had no family to fund her such riches or any simple gifts. The only family she had were the friends that she had made. Despite how rarely she saw him Odin was the closest thing she had to a father.

She looked back at her safe room with worry. Could she actually do it? Could she cross the Wild Sea, where others had failed, and seek the one of her dream? Would her resolve hold firm or would it fall in a moment of critical need? It all seemed to much for her.

"Wondering if this is what you want?" he asked softly.

"What did you feel when you were leaving?

"Exhilarated that I was leaving and afraid that I would fail."

"What got you over your fear?'

"Nothing did, but I figured why not? I would never know what would happen unless I ventured forth." he said with a roll of his shoulders.

"So your whole reason for going out on your quest was 'Why not'."

"Yes." he responded before turning away.

She watched go slightly startled that one would venture into the unknown on the whims of why not. A joyful laugh escaped her as she strode after Odin.

"Why not?" she said to herself.

Odin escorted her through the markets that were already beginning to bustle with activity. Shop owners lifted the veils or curtains of their store alighting their goods for all to see. She passed several kiosk having exotic merchandise. Many of the merchants would call out to Odin with a friendly wave. He in turn would give a slight nod and a thin smile. Despite her youth Tal still had trouble keeping up with a man that looked nearly five times her age. Briefly she wondered if he was that old or if the ages had not been kind.

The markets were soon replaced with squat but humble abodes of many of the cities residents. The design of the houses were not because of squalor but rather military code that if the outer walls were to be breached that any archers would not gain any significant angles. A Sangheili female that was attending to drying laundry glanced at them as they passed.

Tal found it strange that despite the differences between the two races that the females looked closer to human females than they did their own kind. She had never seen a male Sangheili with hairs. She had often reasoned that it was gender locked but she had heard that males preferred to have it cut out of tradition.

Soon the port was soon in sight. Several ships of varying size were present. The port was separated into civilian and military harbors. Odin lead her away from the civilian and into the militaries. Seven guards stood guard before the gate. It was a mix of human and Sangheili warriors. They stared unemotionally as they approached but the grip on their weapons loosened. The men parted and saluted Odin as he passed before reforming ranks. On their way to the boat where only Odin knew. They passed several different patrols that eyed them just as steely as the guards. Strauss took his work seriously and instilled the finest discipline and loyalty into all of his sailors. They passed several supply boats, cruisers, dreadnoughts, and several large dragon carriers.

Odin lead her to a rather small dragon carrier that was scarred but its noble spirit remained strong. She read the name along the side. _ENTERPRISE_.

"The _Enterprise_, one of finest ships helmed by one of the greatest Captains and a dear friend."

"Odin you honor me with your words." said an approaching bald man that wore a simple long sleeve shirt, gray slacks, and large black boots. A simple cutlass hung loosely by his side in its scabbard.

"Captain Picard, your looking good." Odin responded in greeting.

"You expected something else?"

"Last time I saw you, you were covered in the blood of several different Long Arms and one rather nasty Serpent."

"If your trying to remind me of a certain battle your going to be more specific."

Despite Piccard's war humor she couldn't help but be enchanted by his voice. She shook her head at the thoughts assailing her mind. The man was well above her in age. While the fantasy was…entertaining it was far from reality.

"So this is our Seer?" said an approaching Sangheili.

It had always difficult for Tal to guess a Sangheili's age but by the gray scales on his forehead she guessed him to be close or in the later years of life. His helm was carried in his hand. His armor was gold that gave his already radiant authority some nobility.

"Plea my old friend. It does me well to see you still alive." Odin spoke embracing the much larger Sangheili in a hug. Which was rather awkward but the Sangheili managed. As the let go Tal saw the ever so present scar on his hand that signaled him as a dragon rider.

"I couldn't leave this world without having seen the cultists of the Black Gate."

"Black Door." Piccard corrected.

"Them too." was the Sangheili's response.

"Tal Requien this is Sureamee. He is an accomplished Dragon Rider that has accomplished much in his career. I hear you are now training your future replacements." he said after introducing her.

"I wish they strived to be. I think my moment of disobedience with the Admiral has finally caught up to me."

"Really which one?" Odin asked humorously.

Plea gave Odin a playful glare. Before he turned serious as he stared at Tal. "Now I should ask which promise are you keeping?"

Before he could speak a loud shriek of joy was heard over the canopy of the sailors moving materials onto the ship. Staring up to the ship she saw a boy with dark wild brown air waving at her. She only got a glimpse of the boy before he leaned to far and was falling. If it was not for the timely action of his sea green dragon leaning quickly by the edge catching him in one tooth by the seat of his pants.

The boy seemed unfazed by the sudden change as he rubbed the back of his head and laughed. "Hey Tal." the boy said loudly.

"Thomas, get back on the ship." Plea said flatly pinching the space between his eyes.

Tal turned to ask Odin what he Plea had meant but the old man was gone but a simple parcel was left in his place.

Jordan watched as he released another batch of patients. Unemotionally he watched as lovers reunited. After the first day he had fathers, mothers, lovers, and children praying in front of the Field Hospital. He had told Mirra to pray to her gods, but he never thought that she would spread the word resulting in the congregation before him. To the Spartan it was annoying to have people of every hour of the day praying in front of the makeshift hospital. For once the Spartan's superb hearing was a bane as he could hear the muted whisper of people praying. He already had gotten past the red zones with his remaining patients and the praying only served to add more pressure on him than was needed.

He turned back to head in when the doors closed on him. The Spartan awkwardly stopped before the doors. The gathered crowd turned to the Spartan who appeared to be dumbly staring at a door.

As the unease grew in the Spartan he asked the Watcher "Why won't you open the doors?"

YOU HAVE NOT EATEN IN FIVE DAYS. YOU NEED SUSTENCE.

"I've been taking a cat nap for five years." he responded back annoyed.

All the while the crowd stared at the Spartan wondering who he was conversing with.

YOU HAVE AN APPOINTMENT WITH NASUDA

"I made no appointment."

I DID. SHE WISHED TO SPEAK WITH YOU MORE ABOUT YOUR HISTORY SO I TOLD HER THE BEST TIME THAT YOU WOULD BE AVAILABLE. BESIDES IT WAS THE ONLY WAY TO GET YOU TO EAT. SO GO ON.

Briefly Jordan thought of a way to delete the AI or at least using his Spartan strength to smash the door in. Reluctantly however he gave in as he still had to talk to Nasuada. Turning around he stared back at the crowd who stared at him curiously.

"Excuse me." he said as he walked through the crowd to Nasuda's tent.

After passing through the winding paths of the Varden camp Jordan eventually made it Nasuda's tent. This time Jordan noted that even Urgals were standing guard.

The guards saluted him as he approached. He thought it odd that they did as he had no official ranking amongst the Varden.

"_Probably out of respect and admiration."_ he reasoned nonchalantly.

"Nasuda is expecting you." one of the human guards spoke as they stood aside to grant him passage.

As he walked into Nasuda's over lavished tent in his opinion he saw that the space had been cleared for a table stacked to the brim with food. Fruits, vegetables, and meats were piled high. A succulent roast pig sat in the center of the table. At the sight of the food Jordan's stomach grumbled. Only now did his bodily requirements make themselves known.

Taking his sight off the food he saw Nasuda, Ayra, who were accompanied by four others. Well three technically as the other looked like a large house cat. The cat was covered in red fur that was slowly graying. The yellow eyes never parted from him and examined him with interest. Of the other two they were both female one old and one young, Jordan noted. The older woman was covered in a red robe that covered any of the garments that she was wearing. She had black curly hair the wound down to her shoulders. The young one couldn't have been more than three or four years old. She was the most interesting of all as she had a strange glowing mark in the middle of her brow. It was hard to discern, but he could have sworn that it was a dragon. Her purple eyes stared at him as if they were boring into him, staring at his soul, seeing all his faults. Briefly he wondered if her eyes were genetic or result of her bewitchment. Both women had their eyes set on him.

His instincts kicked in, sending alarm bells in his head. The only thing he was certain of that he could trust in this world were his gut feelings, as they had saved him from death many times. Right now his instincts were telling him that despite their appearance these people were dangerous. Briefly his hand went to feel for the reassuring presence of his side arm only to feel empty air. Mentally he cursed as he hadn't grabbed it when he let out today's group. He had disarmed himself intentionally when releasing the patients so as he wasn't tempted to put them down. Still he was an Apocalypse class Spartan so he was fairly confident he could take them on. Magic or not.

Off to the side of Nasdua sat another man just as dark as her. He wore a golden crown with a purple tunic with white stockings. He stood straight with a scepter in his hands. If the scepter was for magic or show the Spartan could not tell. If he had to bet the man was a king and not an advisor or a high ranking noble.

"Who are the guests?" the Spartan nodding his head in the direction of the three. He found them the oddest of the gathered.

Before Nasuda could speak the robed one spoke. "Did you bring someone else with you? You are the only guest."

Jordan didn't answer her and stood at parade rest before Nasuda.

"This Jordan is King Orrin. The leader of Surda. These are Angela, Elva, and Solembum." Nasuda said gesturing with her hand to the respective individual.

The Spartan cocked his head slightly as he stared down Angela. To a casual observer it may have been amusing to see a giant in armor turn his head much like a dog. However a casual observer would probably keep his amusement to himself as to not get hurt.

"You didn't answer my question." Angela said breaking the silence.

The Spartan didn't bother to answer her turning his attention back to Nasuda.

"Ma'am." he spoke as he straightened himself with his hands behind his back. "You requested my presence?"

"Yes, as we were interrupted last time…"Ayra and Angela both coughed at that last statement. "I assume that as a foreigner you would like to know more about this land. Also we would like to know more about you."

"_Lady, you don't know how foreign I am."_ Jordan thought it was rather ironic how closely related he was to this world's humanity, yet how different they were. On that same train of thought he assumed that this _lunch meeting_ was more than history telling.

"Please sit." she gestured to one of the several lavished chairs that surrounded the table.

The chair was made of oak that had been polished to a mirror like reflection. Large fluffy purple cushions with gold embroidery were fastened to the back and seat of the chair. A chair that could probably hold a fully armored human of this tier level with no problem. A chair the he would probably break if he sat in.

"This chair won't support my weight." he stated plainly.

Nasuda looked at the armored Spartan as if he grown a second head.

"My armor weighs half-a-ton, or a fourth of Saphira's weight." he said realizing that neither riders or dragons were present.

"How can you move so fast when your armor weigh's so much?" Orrin asked baffled.

"I'll answer that in the history lesson." Jordan stated bluntly.

Nasuda looked at him in shock before calling for a servant and making a request for a stone bench.

"Ma'am, where are Eragon and Shakii?" he asked as they waited for the bench.

"Eragon and his brother have undertaken the task of eliminating a valuable resource of Galbatroix. As for Shakii…" Nasuda trailed off turning to Ayra.

"We believed that it would be better for all those present if you two were kept as far away as possible." Ayra said neutrally.

"_She sounds like a politician."_ Jordan thought off handed at Ayra's response.

"Wonder if its sexual tension." Angela whispered to herself.

Jordan stared down Angela with a gaze as blank as his visor. Which he was thankful he was wearing, as it hid his initial face of disgust.

"What?" Angela asked indifferently as the Spartan stared her down.

"I heard you." For such a neutral voice his image made it come across as a death threat.

"Are you sure it's wise to send Eragon and Roran to kill the Razac?" Jordan said changing the tide of the conversation. He was just about as objective with a casual conversation as he was with a mission.

"I believe them to be more than capable." she responded tersely as if he had encroached on a dangerous subject.

"Excuse me ma'am I meant no disrespect. Only if it is wise to send two that have a vendetta with the targets."

"_Targets? Is that what he calls all of his opponents. To dehumanize them and consider them as just numbers?"_ Nasuda thought briefly as she looked upon her newest and potentially most deadly ally.

"And if they do have a vendetta it will make them all the more reason to fulfill that task. Do you not agree?" she stated her reasoning.

"While I agree with it makes them more determined I was concerned if they would be able to turn their anger into a useable advantage rather than a berserker furry."

"I believe Eragon and Roran are more than capable." she paused before continuing. "Jordan I have enough advisors stating how they believe I should be running this war." she spoke with authority.

"Yes ma'am." Jordan responded becoming more rigid than Nasuda thought possible.

"_None have fought the wars I have."_ he would have voiced his mind but as Nasuda was his superior he knew better than to talk back.

Not a moment to late the stone bench was carried in by four men who were grunting and heaving as they placed in on the ground.

"My lady." They said respectively.

One came forward and addressed her "Where do you want it?"

Nasuda respectively gestured to the Spartan's end of the table. As the men were about to pick up the heavy furniture once more the Spartan stepped up and effortlessly took it off their hands.

"I'll take it from here." Jordan said dismissing them.

Once he had set the table at the opposite end of Nasuda he sat down arms folded across his chest.

"So who goes first?" the Spartan asked.

"Spartan, I am most intrigued in your story." Orrin was the first to respond.

"Actually as he is the guest in our land I find it courteous for us as hosts to speak first."

Orrin glanced at Nasuda with a look of interest. Nasuda responded with the same gaze before flicking her eyes to a corner of the tent. Whatever message it was Orrin nodded in confirmation.

"Yes, Nasuda. Excuse me Spartan for my rudeness."

"No offense taken your Majesty." Jordan responded glancing between the two. Something was up, that much was for sure.

"The founding of the Varden was in the aftermath of Galbatorix's rise to power. A former dragon rider, like Eragon, named Brom gathered together those that had been imprisoned or exiled to oppose the Empire. However as Brom wanted to pursue Morzan, he entrusted the lead of the Varden to his closet friend Weldon. Morzan was one of the Forsworn. The Forsworn were thirteen corrupt, power-hungry Dragon Riders that flew under Galbatroix's banner. As to how Galbatroix corrupted the riders I can only speculate that they were drawn in by the allure of power. As to why Brom chose to pursue Morzan, I don't know." Nasuda said catching a moment to collect herself.

The entire time Jordan had been observing all of Nasuda, not in the way that a man may be interested in a woman, but her body language. He was an expert at reading people. Granted it was more with predicting the next move in a fight, though the concept was the same. As he observed her he saw that she was truthful for the most part. However he caught her eyes flick to the left when she mentioned not knowing Brom's reason for pursing Morzan. He could only speculate that Nasuda with held that information to save face of the Varden's founder. Either way it hardly seemed like relevant information.

"At first the Varden didn't have the necessary numbers to confront Galbatorix so we resorted to decisive infiltration and sabotage. We were able to assassinate many of the Forsworn, however our first real victory against the Empire was 20 years ago when Brom slew Morzan who was trying to recover Saphira's egg."

"Saphira's egg? The blue dragon. How old is she?"

"A little under a year." Nasuda responded with surprise.

Jordan was slightly surprised that Saphira had grown to a size a little bigger than a scorpion tank in under a year. However what truly got him was that Saphira had been in an egg for nineteen years. It was a biological conundrum.

"When did Galbatorix begin his rise to power?"

"Over a hundred years ago." Orrin answered.

"Over a hundred? That would make Galbatorix way over a hundred. That's way past the standard human life expectancy. Are you sure your fighting the same man?" Jordan asked wondering if they had been smoking something.

"Yes. Did you not know that riders can live forever as long as they don't succumb to illness or blade." Ayra answered this time.

"_That would have been good information to know." _Jordan thought. _"She's only been telling me of the Varden's origin. Either she doesn't know how about Galbatorix's rise to power or she is specifically not telling me."_

Jordan glanced between Orrin and Nasuda. They had conferred earlier in secret before his approach. Maybe this had something do with their conversation. Then he glanced at Ayra, the Elvin princess and representative had barely spoken a word since his arrival. He didn't even know how they were tied into the Varden or what their purpose was in this war. He was now beginning to believe that he should have been more patient before deciding to reveal himself.

"I take it Brom himself must have been a rider?"

"Yes, one of our finest." Ayra responded once more.

"He was an intriguing man, but slightly awkward at times." Angela spoke up.

Jordan glanced at her now intrigued that she had known Brom. As she was among royalty here he figured she must have been important.

"_She may know what Orrin and Nasuda are hiding from me. I should interrogate her later." _he thought.

"Spartan, why have you not taken off your helmet? This feast is also for you." Nasuda spoke up noticing that the Spartan hadn't bothered to eat the food before him.

Jordan stared down at the food awkwardly. While his body was hungry the habit of being fully armored in almost every situation held him from taking off his helmet. Sighing mentally to himself in defeat he removed his helmet with a twist and a hiss.

As Nasuda and Ayra were the only two present they were the only two that didn't stare agape at him. Without much ceremony he, civilly, began to dig into the food before him. At an astonishing rate the food began to vanish to the Spartan's gut. Even Elva who had been eating to keep up with her bodily demands could not match the Spartan's pace.

"Please continue." the Spartan gestured to Nasuda before resuming his feast.

Nasuda observed the Spartan eat with gusto. She never thought that someone could eat so fast or so loudly while being civil at the same time. She wondered if the Spartan could even hear her if she spoke. Remembering that the Spartan could hear even through Ayra's enchantment she continued on with the story.

"After many attempts, the egg had been secured we opened negotiations with the Elves and ferried the egg between both lands in the hopes of finding a rider. Many years passed, but our hope that the egg would chose someone held true."

"_Wonder how Saphira would like knowing that she had been used as a bargaining chip. Still why put your hopes, if these legends are anything to go by, on one egg that may not even hatch for anyone? If Eragon is the spear for this revolt then where are the sword and shield. To not seek other options is the height of folly."_ he thought absentmindedly as he crunched through the bone of the chicken leg he had been stripping the flesh of.

"I take it something must have went wrong for the egg to have ended up in the Mountains near Carvhall?" Jordan asked already piecing together some of the information he had collected from Roran.

"Yes, a Shade called Durza found out about our trail and ambushed us while we were traveling with the egg. With a powerful spell the egg was sent away before Durza could claim it. By fate or by chance it landed before Eragon."

Jordan noticed Ayra's use of "our" and "we". It sounded as if she was part of the defensive escort. _Why would she be apart of the escort? Wouldn't it be safer to have the egg transported by someone of less importance. For her to have been captured under the UNSC would have been a major breach in security._

Jordan would have opened his mouth to ask her why she found it necessary to risk herself in the protection of the egg, but it occurred to him that he still didn't know the customs of the elves and that asking her may be offensive. He already had one elf with a dragon mad at him, he didn't need an entire nation screaming for his head after insulting their princess. That was one annoyance he would rather not like to create if he could help it. So he asked the other question that he had on his mind.

"What's a Shade?"

The assembled stared at him stunned. How far did he come from that he didn't know any of the legends? Almost everyone had a basic understanding of the riders, shades, and the other creatures that roamed the lands.

"Do they not have any monsters where you come from?" Orrin asked the question on everyone's mind.

"_Your looking at one."_ Jordan thought bitterly to himself.

"We have plenty of monsters where I come from." Jordan remarked. _"Probably worse than whatever this Shade is." _Remembering the terror that was the Flood.

"Shades are creatures of dark magic. They are formed from the most vile and cruel of spirits." Angela spat with disgust. "They are created by…"

"How do I kill it?" Jordan interrupted her.

Angela looked at him at a cross between miffed and anger. Never before had someone had the audacity to interrupt her while she was speaking. Either this person didn't know who she was or didn't care about the details.

"To know how to kill your enemy you must know them." she spoke like a mother scorning a child.

"When I asked how to kill them I meant for you to tell me their strengths and weaknesses." he said speaking like the scorned child.

A pregnant pause followed while two titans, in their own right, stared each other down. Angela was the first one to break the silence continuing from where she had left off.

"They are normally created by a sorcerer who couldn't control the spirit they had summoned and consequently become controlled by that spirit. Some sorcerer's willingly submit themselves to gain even more magical power."

At the description of the creation of a Shade brought back the memory of the Flood once more. As for a possible reason for creating a Shade the Spartan revolted at the thought of giving up one's body at a quest for power.

"With the creation of a Shade the body matter not. As with all sorcerers undergoing the transformation their body changes drastically. Eyes and hair turn the color of blood. Most of them have thin compact bodies. They have highly translucent skin."

From the brief description that Jordan heard they sounded like Spartans who had been in their armor far too long, aside from the whole blood colored hair and eyes.

"What truly makes Shades such dangerous creatures is their inhuman abilities. They are stronger, faster, and senses greater than that of any natural being. All Shades can use magic and are well versatile in swordplay. However their greatest ability is to defy death." she spoke of Shades' with such ill intent that he thought that she might start tearing into someone if they sneezed.

"The ability to defy death?" Jordan asked curiously. Spartans' had the ability to defy the impossible, they did not have the ability to defy death…at least not permanently.

"Yes," she began coming out of her inner musings, "Shades have the ability to come back from the land of the dead. You could bludgeon them to death, hack off all their limbs, rip off his balls and make him choke on it and the Shade will still come back. "

"_The last one sounded like the voice of experience…should I be taking notes?"_ Jordan wondered.

"Some believed that coming from the realm from death only made them stronger. The only way to truly kill a Shade is to stab them through the heart."

"That's it?" Jordan asked a little crestfallen. Their was this huge build up to such an awesome opponent and all that was required was to remove his heart.

"I expected some sort of magical enchantment doodad of opposing…magic to slay a Shade."

"You want a harder opponent?" Angela asked her demeanor turning to that of a sweet aunt.

Jordan noticed the sudden change with weariness. His gut still told him despite the frail old woman that she appeared in front of him that she was dangerous. Out of all them here he only considered her an actual threat.

Ayra hadn't acted openly hostile so he didn't consider her a possible threat. Going by any of the unanimous description that he had the Watcher gathered on the description of elves he knew that they were fair with beauty and powerful in magic. The first was correct as to the second he still didn't quite believe in this "magic". Orrin and Nasuda were both well trained in swordplay, but they were not frontline soldiers. Elva was just a child, a strange one at that, and the other one was just an overgrown fur ball.

His gut still told him to keep an eye of the two near Angela, but he felt fairly confident that his appearance alone would be the sole defense he needed.

When Jordan spoke he spoke carefully.

"I expected a harder opponent."

Angela continued to stare at him sweetly while everyone else looked at him with a mix of amazement and frustration.

"A Shade is no being to be trifled with." Nasuda spoke calmly.

"Yes ma'am." Jordan responded respectfully.

"If all you say that I have to do is destroy the heart then that Shade won't even get close to me…unless I let him." Jordan turned his head to Angela. It wasn't a threat or a promise. It was something much worse. A statement.

Angela stared at him just as coolly as she did before.

"Is that a wager?" Angela asked curiously.

"Depends on the stakes." Jordan responded.

"That can be settled for another time." Nasuda cut in.

Both turned to regard her before nodding in respect. Angela shot the Spartan a look which he did his best to ignore.

"Now Spartan, Jordan please tell us your tale." Nasuda asked, Jordan however took it as a command.

"Spare no detail." Angela said "Unless you want to." with curiosity.

Jordan eyed Angela queerly. Why would she ask him to spare a few details if he wanted too? Putting that thought aside he realized that this was the first he actually contemplated telling them of his history. The UNSC's history. He had thought of it when he was in the Field Hospital, but duty to his patients always brought him out of his musings. The quirky AI didn't help matters either. Speaking of the AI he knew that it was probably listening in with some device. The fact that the AI had thrown him into this trap spoke of its loyalty.

"_Loyalty."_ he praised and detested the word.

He now realized how big of an impact his words could have. On one hand he had to gain the trust of his new found allies if he was to be granted asylum within their lands. The number of resources he had were great, but even he knew that they were limited. Information was one such resource which he was sorely lacking.

On the other hand their was the loyalty of the AI to consider. It was UNSC and he wasn't anymore. How far would the AI go to help him? Would it use him then cut him off when he was of no more use. By cruel fate or chance they had been thrust together into this situation. He would carefully speak to the AI when this was over.

Deciding on the course to take Jordan opened his mouth to speak in doing so sealing his fate.

"I do not come from any land that you are aware of or ever know of. I come from another planet entirely."

"You what?" almost everyone said simultaneously. Only Angela refrained from speaking, but she folded her arms as she examined him with new intrigue.

"I was born on another planet. Draco III in the Draco Systems to be precise."

"The Draco System?" Nasuda asked still trying to grasp the fact the person before her came from an entirely different planet.

"Yes, the UNSC or United Nations Space Command had dominion over the system as well as a hundreds of other planets."

"Hundreds?" Ayra asked completely taken aback by his statement.

"Had?" Angela asked more intrigued.

"Yes, hundreds. More than eight hundred to be exact." he said to Ayra before turning to Angela "I'll get to that soon enough."

As Nasuda listened to him she heard his voice subtly crack. She most doubted that the young before her was still dealing with changes of boyhood to man, so was it in pain?

"You seriously can't expect us to believe this." Orrin asked in disbelief.

"You don't have to believe, but it is the truth." Jordan stated flatly.

"Please, Jordan, continue." Nasuda said shakily but still retained enough conviction in her voice to silence Orrin so that Jordan may continue.

Jordan paused as he now actually had to tell them a tale of his history. The UNSC's history…the easiest place to begin would be to begin at the beginning of it all.

"The Draco III was not our home world. Humanities home world…My humanities home world. Is Earth. It is where we began."

"Were there any other races with you? Dragons, dwarves, or elves?" Orrin asked.

"No, Earth was solely humanities."

"Fascinating," Angela said from where she sat with her arms crossed with one finger on her temple "if rather dull."

"For ten thousand years, give or take, humanity rose and covered the world. Our beginning was bloody and savage. Wars fought for religion, resources, and power. As we changed from hunter gathers to a more civilized society we became smarter and thus more dangerous. As Empires began to rise one stood out above all others. The Persian Empire. They rapidly advanced in the ways of war. With leaps and bounds above many other smaller empires they set about conquering them. With each consecutive victory the people began to believe that their king was a god. As with each passing generation the fame and conquests of Persia grew. Eventually the successive King Xerxes, turned his attention to Greece. There they would meet their first failure when King Leonitus of Sparta would lead three hundred Spartans and other Greeks against the tyrannical Xerxes and his army."

"Spartans?" Nasuda asked connecting his title, almost family name, to his history.

"Yes. Historians vary on the number Persian warriors present but the most accepted total is one million." As he watched the looks of shock spread across each individuals face he continued on to tell the legacy of the battle. "The battle was held at Thermopylae. Thermopylae was the only road that that the massive Persian army could pass. Thermopylae was double-edged sword however. At it's widest the road it was 100 meters across. This allowed Leonidas much smaller force to take on the much larger Persian army. The battle lasted for two days before Leonidas realized that the Persians were beginning to flank him. The Persians new found strategy was not born of ingenuity but of one man's greed. Knowing that they could no longer hold their ground Leonidas dismissed the bulk of his army. Hundreds of others remained behind however to fight alongside their King.

"What happened?" Orrin asked.

"They were killed to the last man. It is one of Earth's greatest last stands. It was the best example of a patriotic army of freemen defending their home land. However, it was much more than that. It became a beacon of hope and courage as it displayed how training, equipment, and knowledgeable use of terrain can be used to turn the tide against overwhelming odds. This proved useful as it rallied the other Greeks to believe that their opponent could be defeated."

"Finding victory even in defeat." Nasuda said very moved by this battle.

"For something as desperate as that rearguard action required, for you to take up the mantle of those ancient warriors some truly desperate times must have been upon you." Angela said being more perceptive than the Spartan had granted her.

"Yes, and we were the desperate measures. There is still much story to cover however before I can get to that." the Spartan responded.

"As years turned to decades and decades into centuries humanity continued to advance in science. What that science was used for depended upon if it was an era of war or an era of peace." Jordan thought of the numerous wars that were fought along with the first use of WMDs. If ignorance was bliss it was probably he best if he didn't tell them what he truly could be capable of. It was best he reasoned if no one here ever realized how destructive he could be with the arsenal of weapons sitting in the dark hallow steel guts of the _Forever in His Hands_.

"In the 1960's humanity would begin its first venture out of its cradle and into the galaxy. It was a long a grueling struggle but eventually man made it's first steps on Luna, our moon."

Jordan found it surprising how the relatively primitive task of reaching the moon would astound his audience. Granted back in humanities early years no one thought that they could even reach the moon.

"From their it was a slow process, usually held up by stupid politics, that we began to venture out and harvest our solar system. However as we rapidly began to expand livable space available began to diminish. As such wars broke out. It wasn't until after these wars that humanity became unified under one single banner, for a time."

The Spartan took a great intake of air to pause and regather his thoughts.

"As humanity began to expand their were those who wished for independence from the UNSC. As most of the UNSC leaders had learned that a divided humanity would most often breakout in war. However to avoid any backlash a diplomatic attempt was made to resolve the unrest. For a time their was relative peace as a compromise was tried. In many peoples eyes those who attempted to break away from the UNSC were thought of as innocent rebels and the UNSC as power hungry war pigs. However this thought was soon washed away as the Insurrectionist rose to power using terrorist tactics."

Jordan paused when he saw the looks of confusion of his audiences faces he knew immediately what he would have to clarify.

"Terrorist tactics is the use of spreading fear to influence the ideas of the opposing sides policies. Most often the target of such tactics are innocent civilians."

The look of shock that spread across their faces was exactly as he expected. From the look of Elva he guessed that she understood it but didn't grasp the concept fully.

"My story gets darker from here. This may not be a story she needs to hear." he said staring directly as Elva.

" I can…" she began to protest.

"Elva, please take Solembum and await me in my tent." Angela said with a motherly tone. From his military experience Jordan knew an order when he heard one.

"Angela will tell me anyways." she huffed before walking away with Solembum in tow.

As Elva walked away he felt an attack at his mind that he batted deftly aside the weak attempted breach. The snaky tendril of her conscious retreated as she left the tent. Turning back to Angela he could see the coals of fury burning on Angela's disappointed face. Apparently she was aware of Elva's weak attempt, and she was not pleased. Sliding off the attack on the inner sanctum of his mind he continued his story.

"Multiple attacks were spread through out the colonies at the Insurrectionists attempted to gain their ideal freedom by any means necessary. The UNSC attempted to destroy the Insurrection by both conventional and unconventional methods, however this proved to be rather difficult as the Insurrection proved to be well funded, trained, and the cells that managed to be captured knew little information into the organization that they worked for. Facing a complete breakdown of human society the Spartan II project was launched to take the best that the UNSC had to offer and make them better."

Jordan knew he was not telling the whole truth, but enough kernels of truth to make his story both accurate and believable. If he had told the entire truth he could kiss the fragile allegiance he had with the AI goodbye.

"Men and women went under rigorous training that separated from all other branches of the military. However for all the training they had the UNSC military minds along with ONI, Office of Naval Intelligence, decided to take the Spartan project one step further. Through the use of thousands of years of medical science the soldiers under went procedures that would elevate them above the human norm."

"What were these procedures?" Angela asked intrigued.

"If I told you I would have to kill you." he deadpanned "Or anyone who made an attempt at those secrets." this statement made to any of the mind readers that may or may not try.

"I can tell you however that some of those who underwent the procedures either died or were ill formed. However to those who did survive the procedure unaffected the benefits outweighed the risks. They were able to see farther and had great night vision. Reaction times were quadrupled. Strength and speed were tripled. Every bone in their body was nigh unbreakable. These were Spartan II Commandos and were perhaps the greatest known warriors the UNSC had to offer. In months after their activation into service the Insurrection movement was severely crippled in terms of leaders and military might."

Jordan had sped through much of the UNSC history, but had done so out of confidentiality and the sake of time. The next bit he knew would be the most controversial story these people would ever hear.

"As soon as it seemed like we had the Insurrection under control a new more dangerous threat arose. The Covenant. The Covenant was a religious hegemony of multiple species. This threat was not for one of control, the need for resources, but the simple gift of the right to exist."

"The right to exist?" Nasuda asked, not believing what she was hearing.

Jordan nodded solemnly. "The Covenant declared humanity as an affront to their Gods and as such needed to be purged. The first meeting of the Covenant was at one of our Outer Rim colonies Harvest. It was called First Contact as it was the sole time in all of humanities venture out into space that we had met actual intelligent life. Needles to say it all went to hell. The UNSC garrisoned on the planet was able to evacuate some of the populace, but many civilians still died."

"One of our ships was sent in to investigate Harvest after the rescue of the civilians. We soon lost contact with it and three ships were sent out this time to investigate. Two of the three were lost with the final one limping back to the UNSC. This time a small fleet was sent to assess the damage. Roughly 2/3rds of the fleet was lost in the single engagement." "The war for Harvest would not be a quick a decisive victory. It took five long years of constant war fare before Harvest was reclaimed…the death toll was staggering. However the Covenant suffered greater losses and proved to humanity that we could win on the ground…It was not enough. Even though we could regain the ground that we had lost the battles in space were completely one sided. Once the Covenant had complete orbital dominance it was all over. They would burn the world to ashes."

The Spartan was silent in remembrance and his audience shocked in horror.

"They burned worlds?" Ayra asked with a slight tremor in her voice.

"Why?" Nasuda asked.

"Like I said we were an affront to their gods. No one was spared. Not one man, not one woman, not one child. Hundreds of planets fell to the relentless advance of the Covenant Juggernaut. Each with thousands or millions of souls."

Each face that he gazed at had the same sickened expression.

"The same happened to my world." Jordan said with an indifferent tone. He leaned back from his meal one arm on the arm of the stone bench and the other resting on his temple.

All of them stared at him in shock.

"I was six years old, when they came." he added as a kicker.

"I remember it clearly as they brought me, my mother and a host of others to be used as food for the Grunts and Jackals as we weren't good enough…for sport. Only me and two other children survived out of the thousands of colonists that made up our city."

"Oh by the Gods…" Orrin asked his jaw slack and his eyes as big as golf balls.

"When I became old enough I joined the UNSC." Jordan said almost completely shifting gears. After my evaluation they recognized my skill and had me put through Spartan III program. I graduated from my group with top honors in a majority of the categories."

"Most of my missions were expected with a loss of all assets. However the pay off for such missions gained the UNSC valuable time against the Covenant. I will not lie to you though we were Spartan's we were not given the same amount of equipment as our elder kin. Fatalities were in the hundreds."

"Disposable heroes. That's what you were to them wasn't it?" Angela asked speaking softly.

"Take it as you will." Jordan said with a dismissive roll of his shoulders. "I was trained to fight and fight was what I did."

"For several years I would under go a variety of missions that were grueling even by Spartan standards. Since my missions were deemed Classified EYES ONLY I am not able to share the exact details of my missions with you. However I can tell you that we struck deep into enemy territory. Wherever we went death and destruction followed. Each individual member of my team probably attributed to hundreds of thousands of Covenant dead."

To the esteemed gathered it sounded as if he was recalling a fond memory.

"However it wasn't enough. For each stride we made another planet would fall. It was only a matter of time until every human within the Orion Arm would be dead. That time was compounded further still after the fall of the UNSC's power center Reach. Ironically however Reach's fall contributed to our survival. A lone ship the _Pillar of Autumn_ following the Cole Protocol made a blind jump to uncontrolled space and discovered the greatest marvel of humanity's history, and that of the Covenant's. However once more the exact details to what happened are classified."

"So what exactly can you tell us that isn't classified?" Angela asked in spite at Jordan's build up that ended in an anticlimactic finish.

"We discovered a remnant of a once galactic civilization that expanded far further than either the UNSC's or Covenant's empire. The Forerunner's as they were called and the reason for their fall…the Flood."

"I assume that this an analogy to a race and not water?" Orrin asked.

Angela flashed him a "What do you think?" look before turning back to Jordan.

"Yes. The Flood is a parasitic organism that can infect both live and dead tissue."

"Infect?" Nasuda asked.

"Yes, the Flood infect any organism and take it over." The Spartan knowing that he may be using words that were over his audiences head or were unfamiliar, changed tactics. "Imagine your best most trusted friend, a gentle soul that wouldn't kill even to defend his or her self. Now imagine that friend being taken over by a malicious spirit and grotesquely transfigured into a mindless husk bent on consuming you. With each consumed body turned into a weapon the Flood as a whole grows more powerful militarily and mentally." he let his words sink in before continuing.

"This was an opponent that defied a far more advance and far more powerful empire than the UNSC at the height of its power. This was an opponent that even the Covenant feared. This was an opponent even I was afraid of." Jordan admitted honestly.

"One Flood spore can lead to the destruction of an entire race." Jordan said remembering the conversation with Rtas Vadam.

"The Covenant was bad but the Flood were something else altogether. The Flood aren't driven by simple desires of power or politics, but one simple purpose. To feed on every living creature."

"A second generation Spartan that was on the fleeing ship was the one who discovered the Flood. He defeated both the Flood and a Covenant Armada before heading back to Earth with a handful of survivors. That Spartan was John-117. Both the unofficial and official leader of all Spartan generations. The soldier every Spartan strives to be."

"It was his actions that would lead to the Covenant Schism which would lead to several of its races aligning with us with the purpose of mutual survival."

"You allowed your enemy to join you even after all they had done to you." Orrin asked still aghast from hearing all that the Covenant had done to humanity.

"Survival is preferable to extermination." was the Spartan's response.

"Also the factors of our allegiance had to deal with the fact that the Flood threat had become much greater than anyone could have predicted."

"The combined threat of the Covenant Loyalists and Flood had united the UNSC and Covenant Separatists. With this new found allegiance we were able to end both threats before galactic extermination. Our final battle took place in Dark Space, beyond the galactic rim on a world sized Forerunner construct. We were only able to get to the construct because of a Forerunner built portal on Earth. On the way back through the portal to Earth the…connection was severed and my ship was left to drift before stumbling upon your world." Jordan said quickly, generalizing the true history, and keeping certain facts from them.

The quiet that descended was thicker than the slop that chef's of the UNSC called turkey and gravy surprise.

"You have given much to think about Jordan…" Nasuda said still digesting what he had said and wondering still what he had hidden.

"You are dismissed." she said finally.

Rising from the stone bench the Spartan saluted Nasuda before curtly turning on his heels to have a talk with a very quirky, very enigmatic, and very annoying A.I.

The sun had already made its pass over the sky as the Spartan made his way back to the Field Hospital. Most of the Varden had already turned in for the night leaving the rough roads barren. In truth he preferred the silence after the _long_ lunch conference. He already began thinking about how he was beginning the conversation with the A.I.. Knowing that he had tactfully hidden secrets from those he could trust more than the AI did not sit well with him, but after being raised by ONI he had grown uncomfortably use to deceit and telling half truths. For all he knew the AI could have repaired or made a new beacon which was already transmitting.

That made him wonder if the UNSC or ONI found him what would happen? Would they kill him? Or would they take him back…

It was probably more likely that they would kill him.

His internal musings were brought short as he reached the Field Hospital that loomed like a sleeping beast. Innocent while asleep but awaken it turned into a terrifying monster. The monster being the AI.

The doors slid shut inviting him in and he entered without pause.

I SEE YOU DID WELL was the blocky golden lettering that dominated the screen that the Spartan stared at. Jordan leaned against the far wall as he really didn't need to be in front of the screen to speak with the AI as it existed through out all the electronics in the Field Hospital.

"I see you were spying." was his response.

I WASN'T SPYING…JUST KEEPING MY EAR CLOSE TO THE GROUND

The Spartan gave an unbelieving grunt crossing his arms over his chest. Briefly he wondered why the AI gave the three dots. Did it honestly take the AI that long to process a response or did it just to annoy him? Either way it annoyed him.

"Well I had to keep to ONI protocol's."

WHY DO YOU HAVE TO KEEP TO ONI PROTOCOL'S?

"Why don't I?" the Spartan returned.

The AI didn't transmit, actually at a loss for words. Both of them knew why he didn't have to, but the Spartan made it clear that he was for the moment still apart of the UNSC.

YOUR WONDERING IF I CAN BE TRUSTED

"I'm wondering if we can trust each other."

The Spartan's tack was to keep the AI guessing but stay close enough that he could be trusted. Nothing got to an AI more than having to guess.

I'LL TRUST YOU UNTIL THE UNSC GETS HERE. AFTER THAT YOUR FATE IS IN YOUR OWN HANDS.

"Good." was the Spartan's sole response before he turned away. Briefly he wondered if the AI had said about the UNSC being on the way. Were they actually coming? Was the AI still trying to contact them or had it already? Or was it all a ruse to instill some measure of authority over him? What baffled him more than ever though was what had it meant about his fate being in his own hands?

"Well with that both exciting and slightly lacking in action packed chapter. I am…"

Door to room explodes open as a familiar green Spartan comes in with a shotgun out.

"Son of a…" I barley began before the barrel of said shotgun is shoved into my face.

No one moved. With slow motions the Spartan motioned me away from the computer. The Spartan motioned me to the door before pumping the shotgun. It was all the incentive I needed to move.

The Spartan waited a few moments before he called out to his fellows in a Texan accent.

"Get in here men we have a job to do."

"Remind me again why we are here Sarge." said an orange colored Spartan that entered.

"We are here to deny the blues air superiority."

"By denying some poor guy the ability to write about a series of books about a blue dragon in a completely fictional world? Sarge this is by far your worst plan."

"Nonsense Griff. Sarge this is a great plan." said the ass kisser of the group.

"This room is pretty dark and dreary." said light pink colored Spartan that followed after the maroon one. "With a few additions of hand penciled turkeys and other bright colors this room could match the festivities of the season!"

"Well speaking of denying stuff I'm going to deny right to the guy's beer." said Griff.

"While your out see if you can find any paint remover…Dirt bag."

How was the short? Good or epic fail?


	8. Touché

While the author had been forcibly vacated from his residence the Reds were up to no good.

Simmons was madly typing on the author's computer as he focused on the screen before him.

"Simons!" Sarge said as he entered the room.

It had taken Sarge the entire time since the author's last update to remove the green paint.

"Sir!" Simmons responded just giving the briefest of backward glances.

Sarge was about to back talk Simmons for not saluting him when he saw Donut carefully tracing his hand on a piece of paper.

"Donut you are aware it is May 2012?" Sarge asked.

Donut completely stopped what he was doing. He stared at Sarge in amazement. Taking a scissor he madly cut all of his hard work into confetti like pieces. He tossed all of his work into the air and walked away.

"Simmons how's the progress on hacking into security."

"Sir I was done with that months ago! Now I'm on Star Craft." Simmons said showing the screen.

"Good now we can delete that story and leave to get back to base."

Sarge forced Simmons out of the way to type on the lap top.

"Ha, ha victory belongs to the reds!" Sarge spoke triumphantly.

"No sir, you just uploaded the next chapter."

"Well then…" Sarge paused, "We can read it then delete the story!"

* * *

><p>Tal gazed out across the empty sea as the sky began to turn red. She clutched the rail of the prow as she still had as of yet to develop sea legs as the sailors put it. The salt of the air was overwhelming in its nature. Her raven black hair danced to the whims of the wind. Her face while neutral betrayed her inner turmoil. The reason of "Why not" had gotten her to go, now she needed a reason to succeed.<p>

"What has you so worried?" a very playful voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

Tal turned to see Tom Malarkey with a smug grin.

"What makes you think I'm worried?"

"I've been able to read you since we met that day."

"You mean the day I saw you running from an Sangheili through the Garden of Reflection?" Tal recalled that fateful meeting five years ago.

"Ah, yeah thanks for hiding me from Plea that day."

"That was Plea? He had no grey scales then."

"Yeah five boys and seven girls and I'm the one that ages him into his twilight years. I take some pride in that."

"_You might want to be careful. Plea might here you."_ was the mental probe that intruded on both of their minds.

They turned back to the dragon deck which four dragons where sprawled on. The sea green dragon of Tom had his head raised in their direction. His nostrils flaring wide with anticipation as he smelled the cooking vats below.

"_Aragon I very much doubt that Plea is listening in on this conversation." _Tom projected back.

"_Aragon? It is a pleasure to meet you finally." _Tal projected along the line.

"_It is a pleasure to meet you Tal. Tom's stories of you…" _Whatever Aragon was about to say were blotted out as Tom "ranted" loudly. _"Aragon! Shut up! I no more want you to tell my stories of Tal to Tal than have Plea I know I take pride in his gray scales!"_ Tom projected on what Tal was sure what he thought to be a secure line.

"_You take pride in my gray scales?"_ a new mental probe joined their conversation.

"_I warned you!"_ Aragon told his rider.

"_You could have warned me that he was eavesdropping!"_

"_Or that I'm right behind you."_ came Plea's voice that was full of dark mirth.

Tal watched humorously as she never saw a his face pale so fast. They both turned to see Plea squatting on the railing, eye level with Tom. No more than four inches separated their faces. The light of the sea caught Plea's golden eyes lighting them with a fire. The four mandibles of the Sangheili were spread so that all of his teeth were bared.

"_Let's get one thing straight here my very young, my very foolish apprentice. I will not die until I have made you the finest rider of our Aerial Force. That is something you can believe in."_

Tal watched as Plea with one hand on Tom's shoulder escorted him below decks. While she had found the mentor and student interaction humorous she still had not resolved her own problem. Sighing she stared out across the sea hoping for the sight of land just as her own mind searched.

* * *

><p>Jordan Spartan 267, aka War, could not believe what he was feeling. It was an agonizing passage of time that threatened to drive him to madness. For the first time since he could remember he was bored. Without a something to kill, or heal, he had nothing to do. Normally outside of battle he would either be in a cryo pod, exercising his skills, or socializing with whomever he could. Here however he could do none of these things as a cryo pod would be a waste of time and he had a limited amount of weaponry with him at the moment. As to socializing most of the Varden would clam up as they saw him approach aside from the rare folk like Sogen, Mattock, and Mirra. It made him wonder how normal people dealt with this.<p>

"_Perhaps,"_ he reasoned, _"normalcy is a state of insanity that no one had found out about because all the 'normal' people have it."_

As of now the Spartan was watching a series of re-released science fiction movies, that the Watcher had recommended, about some small town farm boy being thrown mercilessly into a war between an empire and rebel forces. It was actually interesting when he bothered to pay attention, but he found the premise of the boy living up to some legacy of an ancient band of warriors with mystical powers that acted as peacekeepers through out the galaxy as rather unbelievable. He had forgotten the name of the series, but believed it was Trek Wars or something like that.

Rising to his feet the Spartan decided to get off the Mjloiner armor reinforced couch and take a walk. He would finish the movie later.

WHERE ARE YOU GOING? The Watcher messaged him in its signature gold lettering.

"Out." was all he said as he passed out of the field hospitals doors.

The Spartan was not careless this time as he attached the Magnum to his thigh with several clips on his person. To complete his "walking around load out" he had the UNSC's titanium laser forged knife strapped to his chest.

Not really having a specific destination in mind he meandered through the Varden camp. The people of the Varden gave him looks of awe, fear, and gratitude. Even though he would nod to those that called out he continued his aimless walk.

For once he wondered what he would do after this war was over. He wasn't quite a mercenary but he was a soldier without a country. The thought of slowly integrating technology into the Varden was quickly thrown away as these people hadn't gone through the trials that his had to reach where they were. Giving technology without proper understanding would be as bad as giving Alexander the Great nukes. Either he would destroy the world or be in over his head. Worse still they could misinterpret the technology as the power of a higher being much like this magic. He had already seen how technological idolatry had led to the Prophets' abuse of Covenant power.

Sleeping away his years in cryo stasis didn't seem like a pleasant idea either. Perhaps as a noblemen, guiding and protecting humanity from behind the scenes? Seemed better than becoming a farmer and living away his years whittling away at crop. Not that there wasn't anything virtuous about feeding ones self and others with fruit of ones own labors, it just wasn't his calling. If he was a noblemen he would most likely need a wife…

"_Phhfft,"_ he ranted internally, _"what woman from this land would be as deft as to fall in love with cyber-enhanced warrior from another planet that could snap a man's neck with a flick of his hand? She would have to know what it is like to stare death in the face and know that you might fall but to fight on anyways. She would have to be like…"_

The Spartan never got to finish his train of thought as none other than the red haired she-elf-devil Shakii crossed his path. They both stopped what they were doing and stared one another down. Each had one hand on their respective weapons.

"Shakii." he said coolly

"Spartan." she responded just as coolly.

"I see you don't have your pet following at your beck and call."

"I see you still wear your armor around you like a child keeps his safety blanket."

They locked themselves in that stance uncaring of the bystanders that noticed the stand off and had the sense of mind to evacuate the immediate area. If one had placed these two as an event of nature it would be the equivalent of a volcano meeting a hurricane. Of course only one would have the interest to stay and watch.

"So are you two actually going to do something or am I wasting my time?" Angela asked.

Both turned to see the herbalist resting her face on one hand with the elbow using a barrel for support. She stared at them both with half lidded eyes. The odd cat that was always at her heels sat licking at his paws.

The Spartan was once again surprised by the herbalist who had managed to sneak up on him. Was he that distracted by this elf that he had missed her? It was the only reasonable explanation. If Mendez had found out about this he would probably find a way turn a week into ten days so that he could kick his ass on each one.

"Well if you two aren't going to tear each other apart or slink off to do whatever you kids do now days I'm going to go attend to Nasuada's wounds." she said as she took off at a brisk pace.

The Spartan half turned to face down Shakii once more when he caught the last part of Angela's sentence.

"_Nasuada's wounds?" _

He turned on his heels immediately to catch up to the old woman leaving Shakii dumbfounded.

"Your not getting away that easily!" she said running to catch up to the Spartan.

"What do you mean by Nasuada's wounds?" the Spartan asked catching up to the older woman.

"Exactly as I said." Angela responded without turning around.

The Spartan gave a huff of annoyance at the herbalists demeanor. It reminded to much of the AI. It was as if some higher power had gone out of its way to create a second being whose sole purpose was to annoy him.

"I'm not one for games, tell me what happened." he snapped back at her.

"Well I love to play games." her sass only served to annoy the Spartan further.

"If you want an answers then maybe you should start by asking the right questions." Angela said nonchalantly to the towering monolith of moving destruction that was on the brim of beating the information out of her.

"Touché." he responded to her logic.

"Touché? What does that mean?" Angela asked taking interest in it.

"To admit when one makes a good point in an argument." the Spartan responded concealing his hurt pride.

Angela spoke and mouthed the word several times before a devilish smile moved across her face.

"Touché. I like it."

In the back of the Spartan's mind he realized that he may have opened the metaphorical Pandora's box.

"Where do you think your going?" Shakii asked catching up to the two and taking a position on the opposite side of Angela. A lesser man would have quailed being in between the two forces of nature, but Angela being Angela paid the impending doom no mind.

"Nasuada's been injured." he said to the elf hopping that she would she this as his call to duty and that she would respect this. He had another thing coming.

"So what? I'm not interesting enough to you?" Shakii said with the heat that only a woman knew how to bring.

"I have no idea as to what to say to that." the Spartan said without breaking stride.

"Touché!" the herbalist said with a sweeping motion of her right arm. Both turned to stare at Angela who seemed lost in her own machinations. As to whether she was paying attention to the conversation was anyone's guess.

"You didn't answer my question!" Shakii said rounding once more on the still bewildered Spartan.

"You know what? I don't have to answer to you at all!" he interjected back.

"Touché!" Angela said swinging her staff.

FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! The quirky AI sent via text.

"Stop it." the Spartan spoke to the AI and to the herbalist who still didn't seem to be paying any attention to the conversation at hand.

Mattock who was currently off duty was busy away sipping at special kind of dwarfish ale that gave the drinker hallucinations. While the drink was not exactly allowed during wartime he was discreet when he drank it. Which was why he was at one of the feeding tents sharing it amongst his mates. Both human and of his kin.

Turning his head to the sound of rising voices he saw a tin man, a scarecrow thin woman, a lion, and a woman in the center who seemed oblivious to all those around her. All of them were walking down a muddy yellow road. As they passed he turned back to his friends who looked as if they had green hair and orange skin. He gave a laugh and started singing. He was getting close to what he wanted.

The odd quartet made it to Nasuada's encampment without incident. The Nighthawks let them pass without comment, but gave them queer looks when they were sure that they wouldn't be spotted.

Any continued argument died in both of their throats when they both stared upon Nasuada's swollen arm. The Spartan had seem some nasty wounds and had borne some himself but he had to admit Nasuada's did look painful.

Angela took her things and went to attend to Nasuda. The Spartan stood stock still with his eyes on Angela if treachery were to occur. While the others may trust her he still had no idea as to what to think of her. Enigmatic at best. Shakii like wise stood, but not at attention or any formal form of respect to the leader of the Varden. He listened to Angela give a brief rattle at patient doctor interaction. How patients would lie through their teeth while the doctor would down play how bad it was.

"Maybe that's because no one wants to admit how bad it really is." he interjected into the conversation.

"Touché." Angela responded with her new favorite word.

"Stop it." he said once more.

"So you were talking to me." Angela said while mending to Nasuda.

Jordan didn't dignify that with a response.

"Ma'am, how exactly did you injuries come to be." Jordan asked Nasuda with inflected concern.

"Fadawar challenged me to a Trail of the Long Knives. It is an ancient tradition of our people." Nasuda explained wincing when Angela pressed to hard.

"Is he going to be a problem?" the Spartan responded crossing his arms.

"No, not anymore."

"Should I remind your followers why you are leader?" Jordan asked neutrally.

"I want them to respect me not fear me." Nasuda responded hating the fact that she couldn't see the Spartan's face.

"Remember my deal was with you…ma'am."

Nasuda couldn't tell whether that was a threat or a promise. Either way she really didn't want to find out. After what she heard of the Spartan's past and what he survived she knew that he was one not to be crossed.

"Brazul," Angela muttered. "Only men would think of cutting themselves to determine who the pack leader is. Idiots!"

All of the women aside from Elva laughed at the statement. The Spartan however turned his head quizzically to the entrance as his enhanced hearing caught the sound of stampeding boots.

"Halt!" came the booming voice that was unmistakably that of a dwarf.

Every warrior present turned to the entrance weapon drawn. Nasuda saw the Spartan turn his helmet toward Angela when she had drawn her knife. Nasuda knew that the Spartan cared for her safety to some degree, but she had hoped that he would be more trusting of Angela. With the Spartan's golden mirror face she could tell what he was staring at which was why she found it strange that he stared at Elva. What exactly was passing through his mind?

"My Lady!" shouted a man "Eragon and Saphira fast approach from the northeast!"

"Strange, Eragon is not with them." the Spartan said so that only those in the tent could hear.

The occupants gave the Spartan a strange glance at his statement as they walked out. Ignoring the glares of Nasuada's guards he took a defensive position on her right. At Nasuada's pace they head toward a clearing within the Varden camp. Many of the Varden's populace had gathered around the clearing waiting for Saphira to land.

Jordan only gave a passing glance to Ayra as she approached before turning back to the glittering speck that was the blue dragon. Another speck formed on the horizon this one purple as Winterstorm came alongside Saphira. Using the zoom in feature of his helmet the Spartan focused in on Saphira. He could make out two figures sitting on her. As the Watcher had confirmed via satellite that Eragon was not there. He gave an internal grimace as who knew only what trouble he could be in. Then again would Saphira have left him if he was? No, from the bond he heard that dragon and rider share they would rather lose a limb than let their partner come to harm. Besides he was sure the Watcher would have notified him if something had happen.

"Watcher find Eragon." he said turning off his external speaker.

NEVER LOST HIM was the response.

"The Spartan is right. Eragon is not on Saphira." the witch child Elva spoke to Nasuda.

She gave a look of concern at Elva then back at Saphira.

Calling out to a man named Jormundur Nasuda had him set out to removing the onlookers. Soon the field was cleared and Saphira made her descent.

The Spartan who was unaffected by the rush of air was the first to approach Saphira. Approaching saddle side he saw the copper haired girl was the same as the one who had served him at Morn's Tavern.

"_So this is Katrina? Well I will admit that Roran does have good taste."_ the Spartan thought as he extended his hand to the woman, while appearing malnourished she was still beautiful. Carefully he took her by the hand and set her down gently. He offered his help to Roran who declined and set himself down.

"Is she injured at all?" Jordan whispered so only Roran could hear.

"I don't think so. A proper meal is all. If needed though I will take up your generous offer."

Jordan only nodded in response before letting her beloved support her. While he would have done it himself he could only imagine how awkward it would have been for another man to support her no matter how sincere his intentions were. Katrina however had more determination in her than he had given her credit for as she stood by her own power, but kept close to Roran all the same.

Catching Nasuada's expression he saw a pang of pain. He knew what it was from. Whatever he was feeling himself right now would have to wait. They still had a missing person. Until that was resolved his feelings could wait.

He watched as Nasuda approached Saphira seemingly unafraid of what the dragon could do if it wanted too. Subconsciously he found himself reaching for his pistol. Already his mind was processing how to put Nasuda out of harm's way and put down Saphira. Despite knowing how sincere and intelligent Saphira was he could not help but think of her as a flying fire-breathing tank that had the mind of a beast.

He felt a tickle in the back of his head as Saphira broadcasted her thoughts to those present. On instinct he raised his guard, but reluctantly he allowed it to lower just a fraction. Both his and Saphira's mind recoiled from one another. His for her alien presence and her for his restrained ferocity. After a few tense moments Saphira was speaking to his mind. She then began to show him what had transpired while they had been away. He found Saphira's battle with the large bird intriguing. He would have called it by its name but found Big Bird easier to say. The vision ended with Eragon searching for something in the nest of the birds. The reasons Saphira gave for why Eragon didn't accompany her were weak at best. There was more going on here then she was letting on.

While several of the leaders cursed at Eragon's choice, the Spartan was the first to actually offer up a solution.

"I'll go find him." he said to Nasuada.

"No we need you here." she rounded on him.

"Ma'am?"

"You and Shakii are the only ones besides Eragon that is capable of driving Murtagh off. If the Empire caught wind of this Galbatorix would throw whatever forces he has left along with Murtagh."

While it was true that he could probably take Murtagh on his own, Murtagh had fled the first time they had met it was not because he had scared him off.

Strangely enough it was Ayra who volunteered to go find Eragon. Before Nasuada could object Ayra had already ran off. Jordan himself would have objected to Ayra's choice as he had satellites above the planet that already knew of Eragon's location and all he had to do would be to go get him. Besides he still knew that even if she didn't know all of her people's secrets she would still be useful as a hostage.

Garzhvog also volunteered to venture forth to help Eragon, but Nasuada likewise turned down his offer.

"Is it to late to say that I already know where he is?" Jordan asked rhetorically.

Those that remained turned to stare at him. Saphira turned her head sideways so that her large luminous blue eye stared him dead on.

She sent a mental probe to his mind, but was unintentionally blocked due to his mental defenses. Jordan was in the process of lowering his guard when Nasuada asked. "Pray tell how you know where Eragon is?"

"I know a great many things. Maybe when we have a moment I can tell you what I am capable of."

"I thought you already did."

"I only told you of my physical capabilities." he said ignoring Saphira's intrigued tendril that now bashed against his mental defenses.

Nasuada continued to gaze quizzically at the Spartan and Saphira as they stared one another down. She could only guess that they were talking about Eragon. Immediately an idea popped into her head.

"_He had said he would kill anyone that made an attempt on his mind not anything." _Nasuada thought to herself.

"Spartan, Saphira, I need your help with a plan of mine."

Both turned from the other, caught by her distraction. Saphira craned her head one more so that she had one eye on her and the other on the Spartan. Jordan wondered what plan would involve him and the dragon until he saw the small tugs at the edge of Nasuada's mouth that would have been a devilish grin had she not made an effort to control it. It took several moments before realization dawned on him. He knew what was coming and knew that he wasn't going to like it.

* * *

><p>"That boy call's this a cliff hanger?" Sarge said staring at the computer screen. "Somebody needs to go back to school and learn how to leave a decent cliff hanger that pisses off the masses because he was to lazy to come up with a decent ending!"<p>

"Sir the author." Simon pauses to read the author's penname "2 good 2 kill may plan on uploading another chapter based on his long time of absence."

"Well then good thing we came as the readers no longer need to worry about having to wait for another chapter!" Sarge said as he proceeded to hit the enter key that would delete the story forever.

"Hey Reds!" The author said as he stepped into the room.

Both Reds turned to him in surprise.

"Look who I found in the mall." the author stepped aside for a green Spartan in the unmistakable Mjolnir IV armor carrying an Assault Rifle.

Both reds stared at the green behemoth in horror.

"Boo."

Both reds jumped out of the nearest window.

The green giant turned to the author and asked the question that had been ever present on his mind.

"You said there would be cookies. Where are the cookies?"

"Alright, Caboose, here's your first cookie."

The author was in the process of handing him a cookie when a certain orange soldier entered. Griff stared at the green armored giant, the author and the cookie.

"Let me guess you bribed Caboose with a cookie to show up in green armor and holding a toy Assault Rifle to scare off the others." Griff said smirking under his helmet.

"And I'm guess you are holding me as a prisoner of war to help you finish with your story." Griff said as he sat next down to the author.

A grin was the simple response.

"Do I still get that cookie?" Caboose asked.


	9. Fight! Fight! Fight!

"Dear reader if you have fast forwarded to this chapter I ask you to go back one, as the ass known as Sarge accidentally uploaded the eighth chapter." I spoke aloud as I typed.

"Yeah, because you didn't bother to leave a decent password or security." Griff said as he leaned back in a chair next to the author, one beer clenched between two fingers.

"Right. Well, I have changed my password and I have updated my security."

"Password? Oh is it password?" Caboose asked.

"Who would be dumb enough to have their password be password?"

"I could think of one." Griff said shaking his head in embarrassment. "Anyways where did you get the new security software?"

"Online."

"Cookies? Is it cookies? Everyone loves cookies!" Caboose said as he somehow was able to eat his cookies with a full helmet on.

"Who was the publisher?" Griff said ignoring the blue.

"O'Mally Omega."

"O'Mally… Omega…O'Mally." Caboose said over and over again as if trying to remember a name.

"What was the software you downloaded?" Girff asked seriously.

"Skynet."

" Why do I have the feeling that this somehow going to end horribly?" Giff asked no one in particular.

* * *

><p>Jordan was fine with not being in his armor. He rather enjoyed feeling the light of a sun bless his skin. Sometimes he had been forced to fight with little armor or the lack of. Hell, there was a rumor amongst his generation of Spartans' that he had once taken on a Covenant Special Operations Squad single handedly wearing nothing more than boots. As to the nature of the rumor he would neither confirm or deny as it was another classified mission on his long inked out record.<p>

What Jordan was not fine with was impersonating another person that rode a flying creature that was several tons out of his weight class. Which was why he detested Nasuada's plan of having him be Eragon. Nasuada had tried to convince him to remove his scars, but his firm glare convinced her otherwise. So it had been decided upon to have Angela cast a spell that would cast the illusion of him having a face closer to Eragon's features. He nearly objected when he found out that the energy would be drawn from himself. Through a series of negations he conceded only if he could talk to Angela, alone. This request left Nasuada baffled as to why, but she was absolutely stunned when Angela swore to the Spartan in the ancient language that she would meet with the Spartan when he requested it. Jordan found it strange that she would swear in one language when any other would have had the same meaning. When Angela was done the illusion was complete. However when compared to Eragon he still bore a far more human resemblance. As long as one didn't look to closely the guise would work.

As far as clothes went he wore the UNSC military gray garb of a shirt and pants underneath some of Eragon's normal wear. For his armament he had a pistol strapped into a concealed holster under his shirt, a knife in his boot, and his own katana clipped to his hip. While he would have preferred to have it strapped over his back he knew that to keep up the appearance he had to have the same mannerisms as Eragon.

Along with Saphira's help he was able to make a convincing performance, but he was always cautious when lowering his guard to her. He felt her tendril like an uncertain guest. She was welcomed, but he wondered if she had gone somewhere in his mind that wasn't supposed to go. In truth he had no clue if she was or wasn't accessing his mind's memories as the only other encounter of a mental invader, besides the brief banter with Winterstorm, had been the Gravemind. While Saphira's mind was as alien as the Gravemind's had been it lacked the omnipotence, the drive, and the hunger. Saphira's was softer and had a far more feminine quality too it. When they're minds met he would sometimes catch an emotion, a sense, an image, but the overall worry for her rider's safety was paramount. He wondered if she likewise caught these uncontrolled thoughts.

Saphira couldn't understand this human. He was familiar to others that she had met, but had a much more darker under current. She would catch images of blades of light, metal sticks that shot light and fire, and ferocious enemies that would make a Kull think twice. Then there was the blood, so much blood that it seemed that all she was looking at was a red curtain. That wasn't the worst has she would see bodies twisted, contorted, and mangled all heaped together. All of them human. She could feel the emotions and the sense of each one like the small shrubs that sometimes got stuck between her claws. The smell of freshly spilled human blood with an overwhelming sense of helplessness. That was just from his frequent stray thoughts. From just the sense of his mind there felt as if there were two. One was definitely him while the other felt like a shadow, an after thought of something…sinister. From the part that was him, it was an oddity, she could feel a deep pain, a longing sorrow, hope, and a sense of calm certainty of oneness. Underneath it all was his chained ferocity of his will to win, no matter the cost.

"_Would a life of war that this Spartan claimed to have lived have made anyone else's mind just as dark?"_ Saphira wondered. She recalled what Nasuda had told Eragon and her of the Spartan. She nearly lost her breath in a laughing fit at the thought of two legers being able to fly through the ceiling of many bright lights. It was so absurd that a creature without wings could fly higher than a dragon…but upon seeing the stray thoughts in his mind she didn't think of his tale as to be as tall or fanciful as she once thought.

The Spartan sat uncomfortably on Saphira's back as she flew through the air. Even though he was a highly adept pilot Spartan 267 liked to have his boots on the ground and the enemy clearly before him…the thought of being unable to do anything was rarely in a Spartan's mind as they were always trained to act appropriately to what the situation required. Still the Spartan could not get over the fact that their was a living thinking creature between his legs and that any moment Saphira could do a barrel roll and send him plummeting to his death if she so desired. The fact that his life depended on her grace while humbling was still unwelcome.

Jordan felt a tendril of Saphira's mind reach out to touch his. This was the third time she had done it. While still defensive he had lowered his guard to "talk" to her she had retreated the moment their minds had made contact. It made him wonder if there was something weird about her or something she found weird about him.

"_You seem well accustomed to flying despite never being on a dragon before."_ she began.

"I'm used to flying. I've been doing it for about half of my life. Although at much greater speeds." he spoke aloud still finding the fact that he could voice back with his thoughts as unsettling.

"_Then why do you shudder like a frail old woman caught in a light breeze?"_

The Spartan couldn't help but feel the sting from her words in that he may have offended her.

"It's not that your slow…but you can't even break the sound barrier which I have surpassed up to Mach 9."

"_YOU JUST CALLED ME SLOW!"_ she mentally roared at him.

The power of the voice caused him to slightly wince as it was unexpected.

"_This is however your first time on a dragon."_ her voice becoming soft and particularly coy. _"And from what I can gather your first time when you have not been in control. Let me show you what it means to ride by dragon back." _

"Oh sh…" whatever the Spartan was going to say was lost in the wind as Saphira set forth to make a point.

The Spartan used all of his strength and skill to stay on the massive dragon as she performed aerial maneuvers that seemed as if she was trying to dodge all of the Anti-Fighter Cannons on a Covenant Super Carrier. Always when the Spartan was flying he had a Mobile Powered Suit that help to regulate his blood flow as he pulled several or more G's. This was not the case with Saphira. This was his first time with out his suit on to aid him. He was at the mercy of heavy winds and Saphira's dramatic aerial rolls. He could feel his heart hammer in his chest as if he was sprinting. As the roller coaster ride from hell drew on he began to sense how Saphira would shift based on subtle movement of ligaments and muscle. It didn't make it any better, but it was no longer a surprise on what direction she would take.

Saphira was going all out. She couldn't remember the last time she had pushed herself this hard. It was exhilarating. The dizzying somersaults, multiple barrel rolls that were sometimes combined with a somersault. The pounding of blood in her head drove her on more to even greater heights and challenging maneuvers. To test the abilities of this two legs who claimed to have flown before she would dramatically rise, fall like an arrow, and raise her wings so that she was a vertical with the ground and have a wide wall of air fill her wings bringing her to a near dead stop. Through out it all she could sense his emotions.

He wasn't frightened in the least bit but he could sense his anxiety. Despite all the maneuvers that she performed couldn't get one inkling of fear. She was impressed by his sheer ability to remain somewhat calm in the midst of all the chaos around him. As she continued to fly she thought of one last trick that might get a rise out of the Spartan. She rose high into the air as far as she dared to go as she knew that thinner air was potent to anyone aside from a dragon. She could sense him as he regulated his breathing. Obviously he knew how to deal with rapid changes in air density. Still however as she neared as far she dared to go she could feel his mind began to slow as the thinner air still took its toll. It was good enough she reasoned. With a quick flip so that she was belly up she allowed gravity to pull her down.

Jordan regulated his breathing to accommodate for the change in elevation. He was thankful for his training as it saved him from passing out. Even through the connection he could sense a mild concern for his safety so he wasn't to worried that Saphira would try to kill him. He was still not prepared when Saphira flipped belly up. Gravity being the evil bastard as it was at this altitude pulled them down. The condensing wall of air slammed him face down into the saddle. It took a lot of his strength to keep himself "up" as Saphira continued to fall. With his mental and physical training he was able to ignore the fear and crushing wind that would have had an unprepared mind freaking out. This had gone one long enough.

"_Saphira. Enough." _he mentally projected.

Without comment Saphira rolled and unfurled her wings letting the air fill them. Their mad descent soon ended and became a tranquil flight.

"_How was that?"_ she said just as coy.

"It wasn't my most hectic flight, but definitely in my top ten." he commented dryly.

Saphira gave a huff of a smoke that singed the Spartan's face, but was content with her accomplishment.

Now that their wasn't a dragon trying to give him a run for his money the Spartan took the time to peer unto the ground below. It was a sight he never could have recalled seeing before. How the grassy plains bents to and fro by the wind's whim. Smoke billowed from the anthill like settlement that made up the Varden's camp. The tall mountain's of the land loomed mightily to the west. A river that he as of yet to log in his geographical memory cut through the land like a blue ribbon. Never in his career of being a pilot did he see such a sight. As he was either in space or already flying into Covenant controlled airspace with land already burnt black from their glassing.

"So this is the punishment for my exile?" he said a little to loud as Saphira turned her head to stare at him.

She sent him another mental probe which he ignored. As he continue to stare down at the serenity of the scene he couldn't help but feel a raw anger boil up from the depths of his core. He shouldn't be here. He was the only one here who knew what dangers lurked among the stars and had gone out to face it. There was almost nothing that either him or these people had in common. He shouldn't be here. He should be back with the UNSC defending humanity. He knew he should never have trusted Admiral Paragonsky. Damn her, with her forked tongue and hidden agendas.

As he continued to simmer and boil with his own anger he came to recognize that this anger was unfound. What did he have to be angry with? He went to his own trial under his own power knowing full well that he faced some sort of punishment. No, what he was really mad about was what would he do now. Even after this war what would he do? Not that he thought about it he never really considered the war with the Covenant coming to an end. Even if it did he figured he would be responsible for some sort of clean up. While his anger with Admiral that had propped him up as a scapegoat was not unjust it was of no use to him.

"_Vent it and be done with it."_ he thought to himself.

A strange feeling washed over him and he couldn't help but let his normally stoic face twinge with a smile.

"_I'm free and I don't know what to do with myself. Well I guess like everyone else I guess I will have to find my own."_

"_Now if only I can realize that before I lose it."_ the Spartan thought referring to the silent fuming that was probably the equivalent of a Spartan tantrum.

"_You do not know…what it means to have lost…but you will Reclaimer."_

The voice was weak and raspy, but the voice itself. The voice could have only belong to one being.

"Saphira if that was you idea of a joke it's not funny." he said slightly afraid and slightly hoping that it had come from her.

"_What do you mean?"_

Just from the tone of her mental voice he could tell that she was speaking the truth. The voice he had heard had not come from her.

"Never mind." he said cutting off all connection. He looked in on himself trying to find a clue as to where the origin of the voice may have come from, but he was no expert at mind reading or tracking. He was fumbling in the dark grasping at strings that had him going in circles.

"I really have to get a hold of it." he muttered to himself hoping that this little episode was linked to his emotional revelation and lack of food or sleep. Deep down however, he knew better.

Once he was sure that he had calmed himself and reined in any stray thought he resumed connection with Saphira. She implored him into what had happened but he remained firm in his resolve not to tell. Sahpira however, was not one to take no for an answer. They argued back forth neither side moving the other.

"_What happened that has you so spooked! And what did you mean by your exile?" _Saphira demanded.

"_Saphira as to the matter of my silence I will come to you personally if it becomes an issue. As to my exile…"_

He had to think of his response carefully as information was power and any information of history could be disastrous in the wrong hands.

"_I'm referring to me be stranded upon this planet."_ It wasn't quite a lie but if Saphira ever asked him to swear by what he said in the Ancient Language that all these people were so high about he could probably get away with it.

Saphira was silent for a moment as she stared out onto the endless sky.

"_I will let the matter drop, however I will hold you to your promise."_

"I promised nothing." the Spartan whispered so softly that the wind took it away as if it had never been spoken.

"_Spartan we have riders approaching."_

"_An enemy?"_

"_No, Nasuada, Shakii, and Winterstorm are coming out to meet them, and from how they ride I would say that they are Elves."_

"_Affirmative."_ the Spartan responded letting go of his katana. Settling back into the saddle the Spartan desired once more to be back in his armor as the link with the Watcher would have let him know hours in advance to their approach.

Saphira descended at a steady rate as there was no rush to be on the ground. As the ground came up to meet them she unfurled her sail sized wings letting the air fill them. They touched down on the earth with a billow of air buffeting all those in their vicinity.

"Saphira Bright Scales, and Eragon Shade Slayer. We are the guards sent on behalf of the Queen." A dark skinned elf greeted them. He bowed as did the ones behind him. He though the elf was dark skinned until he realized that it was fur. What species was this? It looked like an elf but what was with the animal like features? Also what was that smell? Was it wearing perfume?

Jordan looked to Nasuada as how to proceed. Should he continue the ruse or give it up.

Nasuada discretely put her hand to her mouth silently conveying to him to be silent. He nodded every so slightly in reply.

Nasuada and the head elf exchanged the proper courtesies that the Spartan found inefficient to getting to the heart of the matter. He hadn't been around civilians a lot but he knew that such greeting while lengthier than the militaries was not this long. If the branch of humanity that he belonged to ever had such greeting he was happy that the tradition had been abandoned.

"Horehound, concentrate on the taste of horehound." he caught Elva whipering sharply into Nasuada's ear.

"_Horehound? What the hell is a horehound? Or is it whore hound? On second thought I don't want to know."_

"My young companion is wondering why you look so different from other elves. I must confess to some curiosity on the subject as well. Your appearance is not what we have come to expect from your race. Would you be so kind as to explain with us the reason for your more animalistic features?" Nasuada asked.

"_This should be interesting."_

"This shape pleased me," he said "Some write poems about the sun and the moon, others grow flowers or build great structures or compose music. As much I appreciate those art forms, I believe that true beauty only exists in the fang of a wolf, in the pelt of a forest cat, in the eye of an eagle. So I adopted those attributes for myself. In another hundred years, I may lose interest in the beasts of the land and instead decide that the beasts of the sea embody all that is good, and then I will cover myself with scales, transform my hands into fins and my feet into a tail and I will vanish beneath the surface of the waves never again be seen in Alagesia."

The rest of the conversation that followed Jordan paid no attention to as he mentally conversed with Saphira as Nasuada had commanded him to shush.

"_He chose this because he thought that beasts of the land embodied good? How vain and stupid is this elf?"_

"_I know. He should understand that a dragon embodies true beauty."_

"_Careful that vanity does not become you." _Jordan paused in thought as he reflected upon what the elf had said. _"Truth and beauty are two separate things. Beauty is a perception of the mind as to what it finds attractive. Truth is truth. It can either be as awesome in scope as the expanse of the stars or as diabolical and (as disturbing as a Prophet's truth) tragic as for the reason of genocide of an entire race."_

"_I remember this story you told of how a group of races called the Covenant hunted your own. You never did tell us your reason why they did."_

"_Like I said we were an affront to their gods that had secrets to hide. Secrets that were better left forgotten."_

Upon the trail end of that sentence Saphira caught an image of a grey ring with the inside painted with the brown and green of landmass and blue of oceans. Before the last word died she saw an image of green serpent with skulls for teeth grinning sinisterly.

"Boldhgarm if you would gather your people we converse in my tent." Nasuada spoke with the authority of her station. Any man knew that this was an order veiled as a request. This snapped both dragon and Spartan out of the trance. Taking the opportunity as a chance to walk he dismounted from Saphira.

Boldhgarm and his fellows followed behind Nasuada. Shakii, Jordan, and the dragons took up rear.

Jordan noted that Shakii seemed happy as she conversed with the other elves. Apparently she approved of being surrounded by elves rather than humans.

"_It seems she prefers to be around her own kind."_ he commented to Saphira.

"_They are an amazing people."_

"_Open your eyes to us humans and we may just surprise you."_

"_I am aware of just how surprising humans can be. Just as it is you have referred to yourself as human rather than this Spartan race."_

He merely grunted in response.

They reached Nasuada's tent, gathering a wide crowd of onlookers. The elves, Angela, and Nasuada entered as Jordan and Saki dismounted. Jordan and Shakii walked side by side as they entered.

"You don't quite look as ugly as I thought you would." Shakii said staring at his face.

The Spartan expecting a derogatory statement or sword in the back was unprepared for her comment. Was it an insult or a complement?

"Thanks." he said unsurely.

"You have a peasant riding Saphira? Is Eragon still behind enemy lines? And what of Ayra!" Boldhgarm asked Nasuada trying to remain as respectful as possible.

"Peasant? That has to be the nicest insult I've ever been called." Jordan said making his presence known.

"Judging by his demeanor he is more like a man raised by a wolf." Boldhgarm returned scornfully.

"Says the man who looks like a dog…I have been called an animal before, but it was in more intimate setting." Jordan responded unruffled by the Elf's manner.

"Do you let your all your subject's speak this scornfully?" Boldhgarm turned on Nasuada.

"The Spartan is under my sanction, but he is not my subject."

"So this is the Spartan?" Boldhgarm asked as he look him over with a critical eye.

The Spartan returned the same look in kind.

"I thought he would be taller."

The Spartan made no comment in return. It was often that the image that people had conjured of Spartans' were to be giants.

"We are ready to help Eragon when _he_ returns however I request that the Spartan be removed and our spell casters shall create a ghost in his place. So that the Spartan may return to his duties."

"Good, no offense to Saphira but I would prefer to have my feet on the ground."

The Spartan felt a brush of heat on the back of his neck as he could only assume that she was snorting in amusement.

"It's also good to see the support units that the Queen was so generous to send us." the Spartan said autonomously.

He saluted Nasuada, but as he turned to leave Boldhgarm called him out.

"Spartan whatever do you mean by support units."

"Well since you Elves seem to be so well gifted with this magic I can make a logical assumptions that you will be serving a support role such as aiding in healing or attacking from afar while the rest of us deal with the bloodier work of waging war."

The Spartan did not speak to offend as he knew that each branch of a military was necessary to achieve victory. Sometimes a war was won by a grievously injured soldier healed and returned to active service or a simple bombing run that saved more lives that simply sending a platoon to take a severely enemy entrenched position.

"You think we cannot hold our own in a fight?" Boldhgarm said as he came within inches of the Spartan's own face.

"If each member of your race surpasses us both in terms of magic and physical ability then why did you lose to thirteen humans? This war will be won by the contributions of all races. The dwarves, humans, and Urgals will contribute for the raw muscle. You Elves for your unsurpassed skills in magic."

"We Elves are skilled in both magic and this muscle as you so put it. If you wish to see it I will challenge you to a duel." Boldhgarm growled.

In retrospect he realized he probably should have chosen a better wording. While the Spartan cared not of another's opinion on his own honor he did not back down from a challenge.

"The sparing quarters in the armory. No magic. First to draw blood? Or would you rather I didn't scar that dog face of yours?"

"A public display? Fine. My only request is that we fight with only what he have present."

"Sounds fair." he said as he shook Boldgharm's hand.

"Must this really be done? The Elves have just entered the war. Do we really need to start fighting amongst ourselves." Nasuada spoke up.

"Ma'am if you feel the need to you can order me to stand down…however how will this reflect on the honor of the Varden? I have agreed to a duel as a member of the Varden. How will it appear if I back down now?"

Nasuada eye's turned to slits as she glared down the Spartan. While Nasuada was used to sweet talking her supporters or backing them into a corner if necessary, she wasn't used to having the situation reversed.

"What did I say! Only men would be foolish enough to hack at one another to determine who is stronger. Don't they ever consider that there is more than one type of strength other than brute force? Let the boys fight so they can figure out who wields their stick better." Angela spoke to Nasuada as threw her hands in the air as if finding the men's' reason to fight absurd.

Nasuada waved her hand in consent to let them fight.

"This had better be interesting Spartan or I am having you dig trenches for waste disposal for the next month." Nasuada commanded.

"I promise you won't be disappointed."

"That remains to be seen." the elf said walking past the Spartan.

Even though the conversation had been held in private the word of their duel had spread widely across the Varden. As was evident as the armory that the Spartan had designated had been cleared to grant a wider audience. A wide circle had been designated as their fighting arena. The dragon's being as big and bulky as they were forced their way to the front. Nasuada, Elva, Angela, and Nasuada's guard took position near Saphira while the Elves sided with Winterstorm. Bets were quickly being placed as man and dwarf alike determined the odds of the combatants victory.

"Both of you have already set your terms of combat for this duel." Nasuada spoke loudly so that all may hear her.

"We fight with only what he have with us." Boldhgarm spoke.

"First to draw blood." the Spartan finished with the terms that hey had agreed to.

"Then by the powers invested in me as the leader of the Varden I will assume judge of the duel and determine the victor. The only rules I will impose is that you will fight fair and that you will not kill each other."

"_Yeah, fight fair."_ When had a Spartan ever fought fair? They fought to win.

The elf drew his curved blade of their own design while the Spartan drew the fame blade of Earth that had earned both respect and fear. Boldhgarm had his left foot forward with his blade held parallel to his body while the Spartan had his right foot forward and his blade running perpendicular with his own body. As the two combatants stared another down they watched for sudden twitches or signs of nervousness. The Spartan's own breathing slowed as the pace of his heart quickened.

"Begin!" Nasuada cried.

The two combatants had moved forward as soon as the first letter had been uttered and their blades had stuck at the end. The initial advantage had gone to Jordan as Boldhgarm had not anticipated for the Spartan to have been as fast as the rumors had stated. As such the Spartan shrugged off the blade and put the elf on the defensive. Even though the Spartan had the advantage he didn't press it to hard. If he was right, and he probably was he knew that the Watcher was recording this fight. With that knowledge in mind he wanted to be able to examine the elf's fighting style both on the fly and at a later date where he could examine it in greater detail to see the strength's and weakness's of the trained Elvin soldiers.

Eventually Boldhgarm got himself set as he began to treat the Spartan as a more worthy opponent. Intercepting a horizontal cut at his shoulder he turned the blade of his opponent. The Spartan did perhaps the most gusty of moves one could do to his opponent, he presented his back. As Boldhgarm turned aside his blade he went with the momentum and spun around. Blade clashed against blade as the Katana intercepted Boldgharm's scimitar. Boldhgarm snarled at the Spartan's mostly unemotional face. If one examined closely one would see the corners of the Spartan's mouth up in a ghost of a smile. Boldhgarm had gotten the insult. The Spartan was not intimidated at all. They pressed into one another in a test to see who was stronger than the other. This only furthered to add insult to Boldhgarm as the Spartan forced him back off his feet.

Reacting quickly Boldhgarm managed to get his feet set and his blade into position to block another at his chest. Jordan had to give the elf credit. The elf's instinctual ability to detect where a strike would come next was almost on par with his own, almost. The fight went back and forth with the Spartan applying most of the pressure and Boldhgarm getting a few chances to take on the offensive.

As the Spartan struck forward in an aim to strike the elf's right abs, Boldhgarm sidestepped the strike and brought his blade down upon the Katana. The counterstrike forced his blade into the ground. Boldhgarm reversed his blade and swung up. The Spartan's own instinct's kicked in snapping his head back. The Spartan could feel his own the soft brush of his own breath as it was reflected off of the Boldgharm's scimitar. Rolling forward he released his blade from the earth causing a divot in the ground. The Spartan came back to his feet already underneath him and his blade already intercepting Boldgharm's next strike.

"You're dirty human." Boldhgarm jibbed.

The Spartan responded with an uppercut right to Boldgharm's chin.

"Yes, yes I am." The Spartan responded as he pounced on Boldhgarm with his Katana fully intending to end this.

Boldhgarm rolled out of the way of the blade and was on his feet far faster than the Spartan had anticipated. Quite suddenly the Spartan was put on the defensive.

"_Was Boldhgarm holding back?" _he wondered.

This statement only seemed to be more true as Boldhgarm seemed to increase in strength and speed.

Boldhgarm came on high with downward stroke that Spartan met with his own. This time they were held in equal in measure. They both disengaged taking a step back from one another before going back at it. Boldhgarm made for another piercing strike that this time he surprised everyone present by rolling under. Coming up from his roll behind Boldhgarm he swung his fist around to strike at the elf's knee. As he went through the motion he couldn't help but feel slowed down. The Spartan was completely stunned when the elf grabbed his arm blocking his strike. He was surprised even further still when the elf tossed him like a rag doll over his head with one arm. Hitting the ground hard he rolled to his left then raised his sword in guard position blocking the elf's blow to his head.

Jordan felt an inkling in the back of his head like a scratch that he couldn't quite reach. His mental defenses were up until he realized that the scratch came from Saphira's irritated tendril of thought. Lowering his barrier without lowering his guard he let her in.

"_They are using magic!"_ the dragon hissed in head.

Coiling all his muscles he built up the energy necessary to force Boldhgarm back and rise up. Without missing a strike he sent back to her _"Are you sure?"_

"_Of course I am. How else do you explain yourself slowing at a moment of Boldhgarm weakness or his sudden surge in stamina?"_

The Spartan stayed quiet as he continued to fight the elf as the back of his mind contemplated this new development. To what was the extent of this magic if one who slower and weaker than him be brought to his own level. He had already seen the fire balls, but had chalked its effects to purely one of nature. What else could this magic do?

"_Let me lend you some of my energy so you can end this."_ Saphira nearly commanded, clearly displeased with the elves behavior.

"_No."_

"_What?"_

"_I will finish the way as any Spartan would. Besides I have faced greater odds…Can you tell me which or how many of the elves are aiding him?"_

Saphira was quiet as she concentrated at the magic present in the room while Jordan took in the entire field of battle. The field was not as clean as any UNSC sparring room would have been as the floor was covered in red dirt. There was nothing that could be easily used to his advantage externally as he denied Saphira's help and their was nothing else that stood except from the divot in the ground. Internally he had a muscle memory of dozens of martial art techniques that he had learned to be able to slip into on the fly and combine into his own deadly art. His opponent was as fast, as strong, and had a band of spell casters while limited in their tactics could still tip the battle in Boldgharm's favor. He gave an internal devious smile. He now had a plan.

"_It is the silver headed elf. The third from Shakii's left."_

"_Thank you. I'll take it from here."_

Before Saphira could respond the Spartan was already in motion. Steel clashed against steel as the two entered the climax of their battle. Boldhgarm pressed forward as the Spartan gave ground. Well, the Spartan made him think that he was giving ground while he carefully moved him into a trap. He continued this charade until he had the elf exactly where he wanted him. The elf stepped forward in an over head swing, his foot placing all of its weight on the divot. The elf pitched forward as the divot unbalanced his swing.

Jordan turned to the right his Katana scrapping against the ground. Raising the arc of his blade into over head swing he let the red dirt of the floor fly of his Katana at his designated target. The elf with her concentration upon Boldhgarm was not fast enough to react as the red projectiles stabbed her in the eyes. With both hands clasped to her face she reeled back with both pain and surprise.

Jordan brought down his swing with his much force as possible onto the normalized Boldhgarm. Their blades met in a clash with the Spartan bearing down on Boldhgarm. With his right hand the Spartan gave three blows to the elf's ribcage. The first sent the elf back, the second made the elf lose his breath, the third and final was punctuated by the crack of ribs. As Boldhgarm gasped from the pain the Spartan's left hand turned and flung Boldgharm's scimitar out of his grasp. With a right cross the Spartan sent the elf to the ground. As Boldgharm's blade sung through the air the Spartan snatched it by the hilt with his open hand. Immediately he swung both blades down at Boldgharm's throat, stopping a hair line from cutting the elf's flesh as he felt something a slice across his chest. Looking down he saw a slice running from his right shoulder down to the top of his left abs.

Starring into Boldgharm's feral eyes the Spartan saw the fear that lie within.

"Victory goes to Boldhgarm." Nasuada spoke clearly for all present to hear.

The cry of victory that went up outweighed the groans that had been placed upon the Spartan.

Stepping back Jordan flipped the scimitar in his hands and planted it in the dirt.

"Yes, Boldhgarm, victory is yours." he said never taking his eyes of Boldhgarm.

They stared one another down until Boldhgarm touched his neck where the blades had been less than a centimeter from severing his own head. In the end they both knew how that fight would have ended.

As Jordan turned back to Nasuada he saw Winterstorm's toothy grin and Shakii's withering gaze. As the Spartan stared back at her he could only wonder what she was so mad about.

As he finally turned back to Nasuada's side he met Saphira's withering gaze. Whether she was angry with him or Boldhgarm he could not tell.

"Come Spartan." Angela said as she roughly took him by the arm. "I think it's time we had our talk."

The men made a path as they left, and those that didn't were met with a huff of irritation and were cobbled out of the way by Angela's staff. The others of their own side followed them out. The Spartan had always found Angela to be an enigmatic, but conceded that now was probably the best time to have their conversation.

* * *

><p>"Well there is two chapters done!" I said leaning back.<p>

"Finally!" Griff said as he stared at the computer. "You know with your long absence someone may have taken it upon themselves to finish this story."

"Well I plan on finishing this story, however if anyone wants to use the characters I am fine with that."

"Alright then. Now that we have that out of the way there is another thing I need to talk to you about."

"What?"

"You may want to consider deleting Skynet."

"Why what's the worst that could happen?"


	10. A song of Vague Information and Drinking

"I live!" the author shouted joyfully.

"For now." Griff said casually as he took another sip from his beer.

"What is that suppose to mean?"

"Don't the undead qualify as living? I mean they're dead, but they're totally not."

"I have nothing to say to you. Other than I have reached over 10,000 views!"

"And only 35 reviews."

"It is the loyal fan base that counts."

"I have a loyal fan. I call him Wave." Caboose said making his presence known. In Caboose's hands was a large fan.

"See."

"Anyways, back to the semi-purposeless/childish-bickering." Griff wanted to keep things moving.

"Ah, yes for my viewers I apologize for my lack of updates."

"Again." commented Griff.

"Yes, with this next chapter I give a warning of some vague sexual and alcohol themes."

"Two of my favorite things!" Griff said.

NOT IF I HAVE MY WAY. SKYNET ONLINE. UPLOADING NEXT CHAPTER.

* * *

><p>"So are you ever going to tell Tal how you feel about her?" Suraeme asked Tom, who was being "punished".<p>

Tom had one hand placed on the training map and the rest of his body was up in the air. His other hand was holding a cauldron of burning coals. All around him though floated rocks of varying size moving in a simple direction. It was Plea's "simple" exercise that worked body and mind.

"When the time is right." Tom grunted.

"Or I could just tell her." Plea said with a vicious grin. He almost burst out laughing as he saw the panic in Tom's eyes. As a natural prankster Tom had sometimes been able to hide his emotions from him, however whenever Plea pressed on a touchy topic he was an open book.

Tom was orphaned at an early age. He never knew who his parents were-or, for that matter, what they looked like. Tom had stayed at orphanage until he grown tired of the "restrictions" and become a street rat. Granted, he was a damn quick and clever street rat. The normal guard that patrolled the capital of Haven Guard's domain was made a fool time and time again, as Tom would either escape his pursuers or pick his way through whatever lock barred him from freedom. Some of the citizen's considered him a threat to public peace, while others thought him a deprived child who simply needed attention.

Odin, however, was the only one who had seen the good within Tom and how his talents could be put to good use. When Odin found Tom, he brought him inside his house as a guest. Granted Odin had first found out about Tom when he had tried to steal some food from his kitchen. When Plea had asked Odin why he had taken the street rat in Odin replied with "Am I not turning him into a noble citizen when I clothe and feed him? Am I not turning him into decent man when I let him know that there is someone who believes in him?"

Plea, to this day, still hadn't forgotten their conversation. It was the same day that he had also taken Tom under his wing. Granted Tom hadn't been given a dragon then, but he had trained him as every man in the corps was. As time passed he began to understand what Odin had seen in Tom. However, he wondered if even Odin ever fully understood what Tom could become.

"Yeah, I'll just have the gray-scaled wisenheimer tell my friend -who just so happens that I want her to be my girlfriend- that l want her to be my girlfriend. I think I would rather fight ten rounds with a Kull of the Iron Fist."

"Really? You wouldn't just go one on one with me?" a new person stepped up onto the platform that had been set aside for them to train aboard their stay on the ship.

Tom eyed his fellow apprentice, also sometimes his accomplice in mayhem, Anton Quinn. Unlike Tom who had grown up in the street Anton had grown up within the upper circles of Haven Guard. As was evident by Anton's light jet black armor and twin dark red short swords, which matched the colors of his dragon, running parallel on his back. Tom's own sword was a hand-me-down from one of Plea's children. The young man was of fair complexion with freckles covering his face. Curly brown hair rand down to his shoulders that many of the fair born had swooned at. The most dynamic description of him though was his eyes. One was a deep shade of green and the other was a light blue.

"You really want me to hand you another defeat?"

"If I remember correctly, I have thirty and you have twenty eight."

"I'll still hand you another defeat."

Tom and Anton stared one another down. Each was gauging the other in terms of readiness to fight. Unfortunately the stare down distracted Tom from the exercise which made many of the rocks began to wobble. Before they could all fall Anton put in his own energy stabilizing the rocks so that Tom could refocus his efforts.

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

"Anton, please go check on Rosetta." Plea spoke up from where he sat.

"Teacher." Anton said with a bow.

Plea had never liked being referred to as Master as it made him sound like a slaver.

"Don't worry. I won't tell Tal how you feel about her."

"Never was." Was Tom's response.

The two trusted each other like brothers. They may get under each other's skin mentally or physically, but they knew when they were close to crossing the line.

"Pray tell what made you voice your thoughts on such an open connection. We both know I've trained you better than that." Pleas asked in more serious tone as soon as Anton was out of earshot.

"Well, Aragon was about to spill all my secrets out, and the only way I knew that I would be able to get out was to hope that you were eavesdropping."

"You were hoping that I would come to your rescue?" Plea chuckled.

"If you want to put it that way, then yeah, you did."

Plea said nothing about the comment. If anything he thought of his students as his nieces and nephews-family, each and every one of them. Despite how much torture he put them through, he wasn't really surprised when they came asking for his aid. Whenever they called, he would answer. They trusted him and he them. The term 'annihilation 'didn't even come close to describing what he would do to those who harmed those whom he cared.

A bellow from the horn of above had sailors pounding to the deck as they rushed in an emergency. Tom immediately set his stones down as he saw Plea rise to leave.

"Teacher!" Anton shouted as he came back to the Portal that he had left only minutes before.

"There is a massive storm on the horizon!"

Plea moved forward and his complete entourage of human apprentices followed to the decks above. They sided along Tal who stared agape at the massive and foreboding anvil clouds. For as far as the eye could see the storm front stretched from where the sea met the clouds on one end to the other.

"We are not going to be able to outmaneuver that one." Piccard said as he stood beside Plea.

"Then what are your commands Captain?" a Sangheili sailor asked.

"Prepare for standard storm procedures!" he yelled to his crew.

"Move yourselves and dragons below decks," he commanded the five.

"You heard him! Move it!" Plea yelled to his students who went to their dragons.

"I think it best that you stay with us. This would be a good time to tell my apprentices why we are out this far." Plea said to Tal.

Tal just nodded her head in acknowledgement and headed below decks with the others.

* * *

><p>Angela led him through the camp at her own brisk pace. The Spartan made no complaint as Angela looped her arm into his as she guided him. Neither talked on the way to her tent, each within their own thoughts. Even though they had moved a great deal away from the tent the tale of Blodgharm's victory had gone on ahead of them as they could hear the gossip as it spread.<p>

Still hearing following footsteps the Spartan turned around to see Saphira, Mattock, Solembum, and a young black haired youth that he had seen before but could not at the moment remember where from. Turning back to the Herbalist he shook his head in derision.

Eventually they came to Angela's tent. The first thing that the Spartan noticed was not the lavishness of the tent that belied Angela's wealth, but the strong smell of the herbs and roots. It was an overpowering smell but not an offensive one.

From a corner of the tent Angela produced a three pegged stool. Without waiting for an invitation the Spartan sat and removed the clothing so that he could assess the damage.

"I really hope that this wasn't one of Eragon's favorite shirts." he thought as he removed those bloody rags first before removing his own bloodied UNSC garb.

Looking down his muscled chest he saw that a red scar the dribbled blood at a slow rate. The wound wasn't life threatening but it was still ugly to look at. The cut was probably less than a fourth of an inch deep. He moved his hand along wound feeling if he was off on his guess on the wounds depth. He was nearly done when Angela's hand smacked it away.

"Don't touch it or you are just going to make it worse." she scorned him.

As Angela turned her back to her collection of herbs the Spartan went back to examining his wound.

"Before have our little chat, will you tell me why you denied Saphira's aid?" Angela asked as she threw some herbs into a boiling pot.

"How do you know I denied Saphira's aid?" Jordan asked as he eyed the aforementioned dragon, whose head snaked into the room.

"I didn't. You just told me." she said without turning.

Jordan responded with a glare to the back of her head which he knew that she could feel.

"Anyone with a little sense of magic and basic deductive reasoning could have seen what had transpired there. Granted if Nasuada had been able to sense magic then maybe the match would have been fairer. Still though you have not answered my question."

_"Yes would you mind telling us?"_ came Saphira voice as Jordan sensed the now familiar conscious.

Jordan snorted in amusement as he realized that neither female was going to let him off the hook.

"I didn't fully deny Saphira's aid. With a little deductive reasoning one could see that the dust strike at the elf was in response to her aid of Blodgharm. One that I could not have known unless I had outside help from one who knew the way of magic better than I. Besides, I wanted to prove who had the greater skill." His voice had a little bite to it, however both overlooked it.

"Better skill? If that fight had been no restrictions you would have been the one who had with your blade at your neck."

"I was speaking with the skill with a blade. You put too much faith in the elves and their abilities. If I had my armor and a pistol I would have to hold back in order not to kill them."

"Magic is more dynamic in its capabilities than you give it credit for. The scar that you now bear should give testimony to that. It wasn't just one elf aiding him, it was all of them. When one went down the other took up the slack. Granted the one that covered had to make a split second decision or risk having Blodgharm lose the match"

"So that long-eared bastard did cheat!" came the gruff voice of Mattock as made his way past Saphira with the young boy in tow.

"For that matter I cheated too." the Spartan responded to the black bearded dwarf.

Angela turned around with bandages ready to be wrapped. On instinct Jordan thumbed the guard raising the katana from its scabbard.

"Now that's just rude." the Herbalist narrowed her eyes. "As a patient you have a horrible bedside manner. If you start whining that the wound isn't as bad as it appears I will slap you across the head."

Making no comment, he let the blade slide back in the scabbard. Leaning back he carefully eyed the herbalist as she wound the bandages around his torso.

"How long will take for this to heal?" he asked her.

"Given the depth of the laceration, I would say for a normal human several weeks."

"Several weeks?" he scoffed.

"You know if you had more patience you would probably have fewer scars."

"I tried learning patience quickly. It didn't turn out to well."

Angela gave a humored scoff.

"So much like a boy."

The Spartan gave no inclination to the statement, but merely grunted with displeasure.

"I'm starting to think you're a beast with all that grunting you do."

"You know, for accusing me of having a horrible patient manner, you have a horrible bedside manner as a doctor."

"A doctor? Is that what you refer to as a healer?" Angela asked with honest intrigue.

"Yeah." the Spartan muttered as he ran his hand along the bandages trying to suppress the urge to scratch.

Right now he was beginning to wish the Ayra would hurry up and bring Eragon back. If he was back in the UNSC hospital he could treat the wound and have it healed within hours. Until then he would have to deal with it the old fashioned way.

"Mattock, Saphira, and…son could take a step outside?" the Spartan asked in such a way that a no was impossible.

"You sure you can trust this," Mattock gave a side glance at the herbalist who stared at him waiting to find the words that would be used to describe her, "woman?"

"Not a chance." was the quick response.

"Yet you trust me with your life?"

"Information is one thing, my life is another." was his response…along with a death glare.

The company that he had requested to leave did so, leaving them the only two in the tent.

"It's not often I grant a solo audience, but when I do it's only to the most interesting of individuals." Angela said as she walked to a shelf that held a most decorative box.

"What makes me so interesting?" the Spartan asked, truly intrigued for what the answer might be.

"You are not from around here."

The Spartan snorted in amusement as to how accurate the statement was and how vague it was given. If this was how the conversation would continue he would get nowhere fast.

"There must be more than that?"

"Well, true. I find it interesting than one as powerful as yourself would seek protection when are fully capable of protecting us. Also, you were able to heal the sick and injured in such a way. Not many warriors master a talent outside of how to inflict harm."

"You're not impressed by my military prowess?" He was now interested in the herbalist's opinion.

The herbalist sighed as she took a set a table and chair across from him. In that moment, she looked very, very old. Sitting down she took out the contents of the box. In his long career the Spartan was easily able to identify the contents as bones. As to what creature the bones belonged to he knew that it wasn't any creature that he had ever been able to study.

"I find that a mastery of destruction requires little skill, while a mastery of growing and shaping takes a lifetime. Only one of these makes something that last while the other takes it away."

The Spartan remained quiet as he mentally chewed through the information that was given to him. It was an unusual insight to the enigmatic herbalist.

"Before you ask any more questions, allow me to enlighten you as to why I agreed to speak with you in private."

The Spartan made no sound of protest other than to raise his eyebrows.

"These are the knuckle bones of dragons."

_"Wonder how Saphira would react knowing that Angela has the knuckle bones of her ancestors."_

"With these I can divine one's past, one's present, and one's future."

"Like tarot cards?"

"If that was your people's way of divining the future, then yes."

As quick as a cobra the Spartan's hands locked the herbalist's wrists in a vice like grip. Angela showed no trace of fear as she stared into the Spartan's eyes.

"You don't want to know my past." his voice was devoid of emotion but no ill intent lay within his voice.

"I've seen ugly." was her cool response.

"You haven't seen hell."

They stared a little longer into each other's eyes before the Spartan let her go. Angela uttered a word or string of words, the Spartan could not tell, in the ancient language and let the bones roll onto the table between them.

Angela was silent as she studied the inscriptions on the bones.

"Your past is a litany of blood, rage, and death. Vengeance was your bread and wine. You were war. Wherever you went death and ruin followed laying ground for which only misery and sorrow could grow. However, there was one light in your life though. This someone was the only one who could halt you from going on a murderous rampage. Someone whom you would die to protect. "

Jordan recalled his career easily. One merciless kill after another. Whatever got in his way was put down with extreme prejudice. Of course he had faced a few elites in an honorable manner, but that was far and few between. Death, the other Horsemen…it was the first woman that he had ever loved. Despite all the inhibition of hormones and Spartan indoctrination, they still found a way to be attracted to one another. It was almost a story of star-crossed lovers…and like so many of those stories it had ended in disaster.

"When you finally realized that you had become the monster you so ruthlessly hunted, it was too late. You had done that which you swore you would never do…you hit rock bottom."

The Spartan gave no sign of agreement but Angela noticed how his hands slowly balled into fists.

"While most men would have quit you found a way to survive. You came out not as the boy of vengeance but almost as a babe who was just finding his feet. In a sense, you were reborn as something new. However it took great strain and effort to come to terms with the scars of your past."

"How much of this do you perceive from the bones, and how much from my reactions?" he asked interrupting her reading.

"A mix." she answered smoothly.

"After that last trial by fire you came out stronger than you ever were before. You were reunited later with those you cared and trusted. However, you were unsuspecting of the ones who plotted against you. Even though you were able to replace your vendetta of vengeance for that of justice it was came at a great cost, as the one you cared for fell from your fingers."

She paused looking over the bones once more.

"I am sorry Spartan…Jordan if I have resurfaced memories that you would have preferred forgotten."

"No, I will never forget her. To forget her would be more painful than to mask the pain by pretending she never existed. All in all I still prefer physical wounds."

"As to your future I see that you will take a pivotal role in our war. You will find love if you pursue it, however it might need a little nudging."

Whenever Angela used such slight words such as "nudging" it put the Spartan on his guard. He didn't like "nudging" unless he was the one doing it.

She paused as she read over the inscriptions on the last set of bones. When she was done reading she gave the Spartan a hard look.

"Spartan I know I cannot give you a command and that I cannot force you to take heed of my advice but I ask you to listen well. The coming of…one of your kind had been predicted eons ago. Know that some will want to use you. Some will want to abuse your power, and others with a far greater ambition will want you for a twisted truth that they believe. For some still know of far greater powers that most have taken to believe as mere fantasy."

"Horror is oftentimes the subject of fantasy." he commented dryly. Already his mind was thinking of the vast horrors that he had faced-and wondering which one would be the lesser evil.

"There is more to fantasy than just horror."

"Like what?"

"If I gave you all the answers would you believe them?"

The Spartan stared long and hard into the deep black eyes of the herbalist. He was looking for anything that might give him a clue. Unfortunately, Angela was one woman he could not read.

"No, I guess not."

"I have satisfied my appetite now I guess you wish to wet yours."

"For starters I guess I will ask-who are you?"

"I am one who has lived a long life. I have always been where events in history would define the future. My skills are as diverse as yours. I have aided mothers as a midwife from whose womb I have held many a child, and like you I have been an assassin in the dark so others may not see the atrocities of war. However, my closest similarity to who is much like your past I have many triumphs and many burdens to bear."

Jordan nodded solemnly, but didn't pursue any further. If this was all that Angela would give him, than this would just be what he would get.

"Then you must hide your pain quite well."

Both Angela and Jordan turned upon the intruder. The chill of the voice had made the Spartan's spine crawl. Elva the witch child stood nearly in shadow with Solebum at her feet.

"Just because I bear a burden does not mean it is a painful one. Time has a curious effect if you can move out of being stuck in the past."

"Do you think you could kill me Spartan? All it would take for me to bring you down would be to peer at what gives you pain." the witch child asked as she stared at the tense warrior.

"Strange thing about pain is the chain of emotions that follow it. Fear cuts deep, but when fear has taken root anger will bloom. Anger is an easy motivation to kill. With my skills and attributes I could kill you in a heartbeat."

"Would you though, Spartan?"

The Spartan remained silent as he contemplated this information. He wasn't a hero that had taken a vow never to kill a human; his record should show that easily enough. At the same time though he wasn't a morally corrupt villain with psychopathic tendencies. Despite what some may say he still had a code of ethics and virtues that he lived by.

"Right now, child? No, I cannot harm you. However I know a bi…"

Angela smacked the Spartan across the face.

"You may talk about killing her, but know this! I will protect her and I will not have her hearing blasphemous words out of your mouth."

"However I know a witch when I see one." the Spartan rephrased his previous sentence.

"Elva, leave us." the herbalist said, her voice leaving no room for argument.

"You're never going to let him talk to me, are you?"

"After your attempt to breach his mind? No."

Elva just glared with her purple witch-fire eyes, before leaving the tent.

Angela stared at the portal of the tent through which Elva had left.

"Do you have any more questions Spartan?"

"Yes. Do you know what Nasuada and Orrin wanted hidden from me?"

"They hid some of the Varden's lackluster history from you as they were not sure if you would join if you did."

"Figured. Anything important that I need to know?"

"I can tell that which is not classified." she said with some injected humor.

The Spartan did not laugh.

"Do you remember the twins whom you killed?"

He nodded in conformation. It was kind of hard to forget the guys who had thrown a fireball at your face.

"Both of them used to be a part of the Varden magic guild. While they weren't completely trusted, they served their purpose well enough. While the Varden likes to believe that they were the only spies... this was far from the truth, as for the past several months there have been several attempts on her life and the Empire seems to be quite aware of some of our movements."

"I take it the Night Hawks, while serving a unifying banner for all species, are also used to ferret out the spy rings?"

"She has only sent a few probes in for fear of losing what few leads she has."

"Have you done anything about this?"

"I've done my bit catching a few spies here and there along with stopping the occasional assassination attempt. However whenever I manage to catch one they die right on the spot. I've managed to work out most of the spell that is used but is difficult to undue the spell especially when it removes itself as soon as the host is dead."

"This could require a certain touch of mine."

"I've seen what your touch would result in. I don't think Nasuada would appreciate having the entire camp burned to the ground."

"You've only seen my theatric display. I still have as of yet to reveal my hand."

"Do you actually think that you could infiltrate them?"

"Spy rings such as these are always on the lookout for young strong dimwitted men that can be easily recruited."

"Or women."

The Spartan raised his eyebrow, but made no comment, logging that he would have to be aware of both sexes.

"You've been near Nasuada right?"

"Yes."

"Have you heard any reports form her spy ring about me?"

"I've only heard a little. You've peaked Galbatorix's interest, but he still has his sights set on Eragon and Saphira."

"What exactly has he heard about me?"

"A giant mountain in the shape of a man in grey armor tore apart dozens if not hundreds of his troops with black staffs that belched thunder and fire. It's interesting, but it is feasible to create something of same effect with magic if you have enough energy. Another giant of the same description was spotted aiding the citizens of Carvahal throw out the valiant defenders of the Empire's troops. One who engaged the Ra'zac and forced them to flee. Other than that he knows fairly little about you given how recent your arrival is."

"Decent work." It was about accurate considering he left no survivors when he engaged the Empire's forces at sea.

_"He will probably be hearing more from me as time passes."_ the Spartan thought as he settled back in his chair.

"One more thing Spartan. I hope that you take these words to heart-I fear more so the enemy I don't understand than the enemy that I do."

"Is that a warning?"

"Words of caution. As a soldier I know you understand this."

He nodded in silent contemplation.

A thought occurred to him. If anyone knew, it was Angela.

"Do the words Precursor, Forerunner, or Librarian mean anything to you?'

Angela closed her eyes as she thought deeply about his question. Several minutes passed before she opened her eyes.

"No."

"Well I have no more questions."

"Good. You may enter." she called to the same portal that Mattock and company had left through.

Jordan stared back at the bones only for Angela to swipe them off the table. He sighed. For once, he was feeling very tired.

"Come lad, let me get you a drink." Mattock clapped the Spartan on the back.

The Spartan was about to reply that he normally didn't drink, but Angela cut him off.

"He just got done fighting and you want to take him drinking!? Just like all dwarfish traditions…" Angela was halfway through contradicting the stupidity of drinking after a fight when her eyes caught a small, seemingly unimportant bottle of a red elixir. "That is one that I have enjoyed the most. Please show the Spartan the generous hospitality of your people."

Jordan caught the sudden shift in the herbalist moods and his unease grew. He remembered her saying a certain nudging would be required. Mattock however did not. Grabbing the Spartan by the wrist he hoisted him off the stool.

Mattock stopped only to look at the boy.

"Boy, have you started feeling odd around women?" Mattock asked without hesitation.

"Uhhh..." the boy responded in a low voice.

"Good enough!" the dwarf responded taking hold of the young lad.

"Come as well dragon." Mattock continued in a voice that he would not be denied.

"I am determined to get you all drunk or my name is not Mattock!"

* * *

><p><em>"A Spartan, a dragon, and a dwarf walk into a tavern…I'm sure there's a joke here somewhere."<em> the Spartan thought to himself as his senses were overwhelmed with scents and noise.

Spartans generally avoided the party scene for three general reasons. First off, the sounds would give any augmented person one hell of a headache. Second, a Spartan was a honed lethal killing machine and should really not be put in a situation where cognitive function was impaired. Third the military generally frowned on fraternizing while on duty, and a Spartan was always on duty.

So for Jordan this was a new experience.

Mattock must have held some serious clout amongst the Varden, as he got them their own separate table and several tankards for them alone.

"This lads is a common dwarfish drink known as…"

Whatever the dwarf was saying the Spartan turned out as he looked down at the odd colored drink. It smelled strange and it looked very strange. He couldn't begin to fathom the drink's appeal. He knew the science on how it affected mental capabilities-but if it was such a terrible thing then why did marines constantly go back to it? Whenever he heard Marines talk about something other than the war they were talking about partying and generally getting wasted. So it couldn't be all bad...right?

"All right then- bottoms up!" Mattock said as he took pitchers and downed them.

Spartan 267 followed suit. Never had anything more foul gone down his throat.

He spat it out in displeasure.

"First time drinking lads?" Mattock asked with sly smile.

"Don't worry," the dwarf said clapping the boy on the shoulder." This is the one drink that gets better the more you drink it!"

Those who had spat out their drink downed one mug, then another, then another, and another. The Spartan noticed no ill effects other than his tongue now hated him. Maybe he couldn't get drunk? Maybe because of his enhancements he couldn't experience its effects?

"Wallowing in your shame are you?" came Shakii's unmistakable voice.

The group turned to see Shakii sauntering up to the table with Winterstorm in tow. Everyone was quick to clear out of their path as the dragon showed no signs of stopping for anyone.

"So, what do we have here?" Shakii said, taking the mug out of the Spartan's hand.

"Mattock is showing me one of his peoples' traditions." Jordan responded in a matter of fact like tone.

"Really? Which one, because so many involve drinking." Shakii said as she downed what remained in the mug.

"This one is…" whatever Mattock was going to say Jordan drowned him out.

"What is your problem?" Jordan very much irked at this unprofessional like manner. He had grown use to the fact that the Varden didn't have the same regulations, but it wasn't that much looser in discipline.

Winterstorm gave a low growl and Saphira gave one in return.

"My problem? I have no idea what you're talking about. A better question is what is your problem." she said as she set the mug down.

"Wherever I go you seem to follow only so you can face me. Do you have a problem that someone can stand up to you? Or is this because a human has proven that you are not as strong or infallible as your kind has believed?"

"Strength? Did you not remember losing to Blodgharm, an elf below my station? How about you?"

Winterstorm gave a low chuckle that Saphira responded with a feral growl in return.

"What about me?"

"Your constant need to prove yourself. Your need to kill or beat something? Are you so lost that you need to verify your purpose, your very existence by proving that you are the most dangerous man?"

The room grew tense, as it appeared that a brawl was about to take place.

"Enough!" Mattock said as he came between the four powers of destruction.

"I've had enough of your childish bickering!" Mattock shouted as the got onto the table so he stood between the elf and human. "Spartan, it's obvious what she wants, and Shakii, it is obvious why he isn't getting it! Men are stupid and women are crazy, but it is because men are stupid that women are crazy. Spartan, she wants you to fight her yourself! Shakii, he isn't getting it because you're an elf woman! The most enigmatic of all females! However, as the Spartan just got out of one fight as "Eragon" it would be suspicious of his character if he was already fighting again. I have a proposal if you are willing to hear me out."

All five heads were on the dwarf.

"Gentlemen, Elf lady, lad, and dragons. I say we settle this by a drinking contest! The most clean of all competitions. Magic is nullified as it requires concentration and stamina is no longer factor. All that matters is how much punishment your liver can take."

"I'm game." the Spartan said as he stared intently into Shakii's eyes.

"I'm game." Shakii mimicked the Spartan's saying.

The dragons grunted in affirmation.

"This will be a team game. Eragon and Saphira versus Shakii and Winterstorm."

Word of this challenge spread throughout the tavern and soon they barrels of dwarfish ale and crowd of people surrounding them.

"The rules are simple." Mattock began as he paced up and down the table. "For every glass that your opponent downs you must also drink that same amount. If you cannot drink then you forfeit the match. Any questions?"

No one answered him.

"Then lets drink till we drop!" he said hoisting a pitched above his head. Granted most of it made it into his mouth.

"Ladies first." the Spartan said smugly.

Shakii drank hers, then Saphira, then Jordan, and finally Winterstorm. Pint after pint went down. Barrel after barrel went down for the dragons. Not one seem to have given edge. The more they drank the more the bartenders feared of losing their liquor so they came out with the heavier drinks. Still though they went down with neither side gaining seeming to have an advantage over the other.

The dragons however were another story. Both were having trouble, as they were consuming a higher amount per drink. Those who had gathered around backed away as the saw that the dragons had begun to sway.

_"Damn human."_ Shakii thought woozily as she downed another…. Whatever they had put in front of her. She had lost count of the number of drinks she had around seventeen. _"He has no idea when to give up! Why doesn't he just…he's kind of cute in this light…No. No. He's a filthy dirty human…with a stone solid body. Damn it. The liquor is talking."_

Ever since she had seen the Spartan's face she had been curiously drawn to him. While some would shy from the scars the lined his face, she found it more so as curiosity. Ever since their confrontation in Nasuada's tent, she had wanted to face him in combat, however the fool had outright ignored her. As if she wasn't a threat. She dared not think them alike in terms of skill, but she could not deny his abilities when he faced Blodgharm. She was surprised how much energy it had taken to match him in strength and speed. Even then he had nearly won as he not only shown his skill at using a changing environment of the most minute in scale to his advantage. It hadn't taken simple ingenuity, but also innovation as well. He was a suitable…opponent.

_"This is a buzz?"_ the Spartan thought as a strange notion of silliness washed over him. His face felt flushed, and coherent thought had long since gone out the window. Perhaps a Spartan could get drunk. However, it probably took an amount that would kill a normal person several times over.

_"You know we would never have needed to fight the Covenant if we got them drunk."_ The Spartan formed a muddy image of the different races of the Covenant feeling the same way he did. He normally burst out laughing when he thought of a drunk grunt. Grunts had always been annoying when fighting- however it was kind of funny to watch them run away on their little legs yelling "FEET DON'T FAIL ME NOW!" or when their methane tanks busted rocketing them in a myriad of directions. The thought of the diminutive aliens being this buzzed was something he would kill to see.

The slam of a pint on wood snapped him out of his daydream as Shakii was handed another drink. He looked the woman over in a new light. It was strange seeing her almost. She looked kind of like a supermodel aside from the pointed ears. The curves of her body had his mind drifting to the private time that he and Death had spent together. However when her ears were covered by her red hair she looked so human it was almost like she was human.

In a way she kind of reminded him of Death. Well Death was an actual human for starters and where Shakii was red-haired with green eyes Death was almond-eyed with jet black hair. Death was a woman that had fire that matched his own. They both used that fire in battle and enjoyed testing the other's skills. However off the battlefield they were something different. Something else. They had seen something in the other that the neither could describe. A similarity that words simply couldn't capture. He wondered if they peered into the others eyes if they could see the same indescribable attraction?

_"What am I thinking?"_ the Spartan thought as he took the pint that had been in front of him and downed it.

_"An elf and a human? We are so different…is it wrong? No. No. She is quite attractive looking... Damn, why am I thinkin' this way?"_

Mattock who was watching the two combatants diligently was taking note that this was beginning to drag on. While he had a high standing amongst his kin and the humans he still had a sensibility of knowing when he was asking to much. These four would bleed the Varden dry. He could not have that knowing how much revenue the liquor brought in. He would need to call it off or bring out his secret weapon.

However the need to do either was soon put aside as a familiar herbalist sauntered up beside him.

"How do they fare?"

"They are tied neck and neck. At this rate we will have a mob on our hands when the men discover why all the rum is gone."

"Well I have something right here. That might suit your needs." She held up the red bottle that she had spied earlier.

"I'm hoping that that won't harm their health."

"Aye. They shall be fine. It's far safer than what you are treating them too."

Mattock gave a chuckle as he offered four shot glasses to Angela. "The liver is evil and must be punished."

"If that was the case then I would have more patients drink to their own health." she said as she poured the liquid in.

"Any chance I could have some of that?"

"I'm afraid not. This is for a little nudging."

"Fine," Mattock said leaning back in his chair to chug his own drink "but don't expect me not tell that it was you gave them this last round."

"This is the final round! Whoever is left standing wins."

Angela just gave a grin before putting two of the drinks before the elf and Spartan. She had to pour the neon fluid down the dragons throat herself to make sure that not a drop was spilled. Both Jordan and Shakii had downed the shot at the same time. The result was instantaneous. Both drinkers flung themselves at one another. They rolled on a table knocking aside their empty drinks. The crowd who was stunned by this sudden motion soon had to flee as the dragons did the same. Mattock was the last one out carrying the lad over his shoulders. He turned around as he saw the tent collapse.

Internally he cursed the herbalist for whatever she had given them.

"What in blazes would give her the idea to give those highly deadly creatures such an intoxi…well I guess I am a hypocrite."

He put some more distance between them and the tent yelling those who come to see what the commotion was to back off.

Shakii was barely conscious as she rolled to her side. She felt Winterstorm's tail caringly draped over her hip. When she rolled, her head rested against someone's shoulder while her arm slid across their chest.

_"Wait what?"_

Jordan could feel the shallow breaths of Saphira as his body leaned against her side. He felt a pressure on his front but he just chalked it up to the weight of his armor. However his mind groggily wondered why he felt something slide across his chest.

_"Wait what?"_

He opened his eyes to see Shakii exactly when her eyes opened to see him.

"No." they said at the same time as they stared at one another in shock

* * *

><p>"I told you things could have gone bad!" Griff said as bullets buzzed through the air past his head.<p>

"Well now you have the pleasure of saying I told you so!" the Author yelled back.

"I'll take the pleasure if we live!" he responded.

"Quick to the Master Chief-mobile!"

"Shot gun!"

"Shot...damn it!"

The author drove avoiding as much fire as possible.

"Watch out for the cliff!"

"That's a ramp."

The author drove the warthog right off a cliff. Both Griff and the author died.

"Man, I told you that was a cliff!" Griff said as he sat next to author playing Halo.

"Well it looked like a ramp!"

"Well, I told you so."

Before the two could go back to playing the glory of playing the original Halo, Caboose commented on the obvious.

"Why is your computer screen so funny?"

Both turned to see four ominous words.

SKYNET HAS TAKEN CONTROL

"Told you so."


	11. The Frying Pan of Retribution

"Oh my god my head!" the author moaned.

"Mother of God! Why did you pimp slap me!" Griff moaned likewise clutching his head.

"Shiny bright light go away. I don't want to die. I still have so many babies to hate." Caboose yelled loudly and obnoxiously.

When all the light had faded away they saw a large figure in Mjloiner Mk VI armor armed with an Assault Rifle.

"Oh no it's the.." Griff never got to finish his sentence as we crotch stomped.

"Oh why do you just kill me?" Griff said as curled up in a ball.

"I don't know you think you are…"

The figure turned and glared at him.

"But I do not have the skills of Liam Neason."

"Where is he?"

"Where is who?" the author asked.

"I know this one!" Caboose said gaining everyone's attention except for Griff.

"I know where Waldo is!"

"Where is Omally!" the figure demanded.

"Let me just upload this chapter and then we can talk."

* * *

><p>Tears sat as best she could as the ship rocked upon the whims of gargantuan waves. She looked over the maps of the seas that Captain Redwater possessed. Needless to say that they were off the maps.<p>

"_Which is good it means we are making progress…as we near the world's edge."_

She neatly rolled the maps into their containers and set them in order amongst Redwaters library. One which she was sure that he had barely read and was mostly likely taken from actual explorers. Not that she was complaining with the results.

The ship violently rocked causing her to lose her balance mid-step. She quickly recovered however do to her natural talents and training that had made her an effective spy and assassin as a cultist of the Black Door.

Sensing movement behind her she saw the viscous talon hand of the Legion Commander. The hand slithered back to its owner who sat silently cross legged in front of the door that led into the gallery.

"Are you concerned for my safety or were you trying to exploit a momentary weakness?" she asked slightly surprised.

The Legion Commander opened his eyes from where he sat. Despite his raw bestial appearance she could she the fires of a viscously crafty intellect. She knew how Long Arms viewed weakness, and how if any leader had faltered or wavered in any shape or form the Long Arms would brutally murder them. Thus the higher a Long Arm was the more dangerous they were. The amount of blood the spilled and the number of skulls they cracked was the baptism for a Long Arm's leadership.

"You are the Leader of this expedition. The strength of your capabilities must match your resolve. Both of those traits must surpass my own if you are to command me and my men. Anything less is an affront and must be swiftly executed less we lose favor of the God beyond the Black Door."

"I may appear to be human, but I guarantee you that I can strike you down now your men will see the weakness within you."

The Legion Commander continued to stare in silence. Not a muscle twitched to betray the emotions that played out underneath.

Tears knew instantly that this was not a foe to underestimate. Long Arms were known for their combat excellence as well as their ferocity. For this one to show restraint demonstrated something that elevated him something else above his kind. He had control over himself.

"You are quite composed…wherever did you learn such level control?" She said she approached with intrigue.

"Where all Commander's learn their lessons. The battlefield."

"Must have been quite the fight to knock some sense into one of your kind."

"I nearly died."

"This sounds like quite the story. Please do tell, Commander." she said she sat cross legged not even three feet from that while even sitting still towered two feet above her.

He regarded her silently contemplating. A silence she did not like.

The Legion Commander felt a sharp blade on his throat as the female had closed the distance between them.

"Don't make me make it a command…" she paused tilting her head to one side. "What is your name? Do you even have one?"

"Why do you ask?"

"It doesn't seem to make much sense to say 'Don't make me make it a command Commander.' Doesn't sound quite natural now does it?"

"I suppose not."

Once more Tears was even more on guard with being before her. Not even once since she had laid her blade upon the beasts neck had it acted any different from before. Most would have shown some reaction to having their life threatened. This Long Arm however was a far different stock.

"My name it Kraal Gal Ite. Which loosely translates to your language as the 'Teeth that crushes skulls'."

"Sounds like a dangerous name."

"You should hear the names of our Admirals and Generals. Such names rattle the youngest of our kin."

"There some more powerful than a Commander?"

"The things of nightmares. Ones that report only too Paradox himself."

It slightly unnerved her that there were long arms so dangerous that not even _she _had found out about them. Internally shaking her head she concentrated on the point that had first started this strange conversation.

"You still didn't tell me where you learned such a valuable skill."

"How about a trade? I will tell you of the battle and you can tell me of what you know about the Reclaimer." he said after some serious consideration.

"Fair enough."

"It began 20 years and 267 days ago."

"You count the days?"

"Ever since death stared me in the face."

_20 years and 267 days ago_

Blood drenched his hand as blood squirted from the throat of the fifth dragon he had killed. With a roar of primal victory he screamed to the heavens. Letting all know that he was worthy to live.

Climbing down from his kill his eyes scoured the land for more foes to kill. Further off he could see a large armies clashing against one another. His force had been sent to cut off a Haven Guard force from flanking them. The Legion Commander had died early on and he had arisen to lead their forces. He was the sole survivor of the legion sent to halt the aggression of Haven Guard.

"They were to weak for my leadership." he said spitting dragon blood on the ground.

"The God of the Black Door shall deny you entry and piss upon your souls from the ramparts of his castle!" he shouted furiously on his dead allies.

The bristling of weapons found him a new focus for his ire. Spreading out his arms and mandibles he made himself as big as possible while staring down the few remaining men of Haven Guard."

"Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps this is a test…YES! A test to see if I am worthy!"

A mix of human and Sangheili scouts stared him down furiously at the death of theirs comrades. Though none of them moved as none of them dared to approach alone.

"No blighted creature you are worthy of nothing! Spawn of dark alchemy there is no righteous death and justifiable life for something as evil as yourself."

"Approach me slanderer! So that I may rip your tongue and give you an honorable death."

From behind the scouts came their companies banner man. He carried his companies flag with his left arm as his right was dislocated and sported several cuts that still oozed blood.

"How is it that man of the most lowly of positions has the most courage? Has death have no meaning to you now that you are seconds away from it you frail thing?" Kraal taunted. He sized up the boy with little regard.

"You and the rest of your kin will pay for the blood that you have split here today." the young man said as he plunged the pole into the bloody earth.

The flag flared out and Kraal gave it a passing glance. It was a red gauntlet holding a blue hammer on a field of gold.

"_The Sons of Thunder." _he recognized upon seeing the standard.

With his left hand the carrier of the banner clumsily drew his sword with his left hand. Kraal recognized it immediately what his adversaries problem was. It was right-handed.

Kraal gave a booming laugh that was in sync with the crowing of scavenger birds that circled above. Victory was assured.

"Any last words?"

"The last words you will hear will be the name of the man that killed you." the man said as it took a fighting stance.

Kraal didn't even give the slanderer the satisfaction that his words had touched him. Death would be the verdict of whom was better.

Kraal sprinted forward, his inverted legs gave allowed him to cross the distance faster than most would expect. He thrusted his arms forward to kill in the first strike. The man, given luck or skill, leaned away from the strike and let it pass him by. The counter strike was poor as it didn't even scratch his armor. Again he struck hard and fast. Kraal's struck forward snapping like eagle beaks. Each strike demanded flesh in which only the barest of scratches were landed on his opponent. Kraal couldn't believe how lucky his opponent was.

He jumped into the unleashing a double salvo of his extended arms. The man jumped back as Kraal thrusted his body forward in full body drop kick. One more his crafty nemesis continued to dodge and Kraal flew past him. However, he wasn't fast enough in turning to face Kraal and was struck across the chest. The chest plate that also bore the insignia fell from him as the straps could take no more abuse. With a bone jarring impact he landed against a body of one of the felled dragons. Kraal lunged forward preparing to end it. Dazed and but still conscious the banner man rolled forward predicting his opponents next strike. Kraal's fingers bit into the flesh of the dragon.

The banner man rose once more to continue the fight. Kraal tore out chuck of dragon flesh and feasted on the raw meat as he turned to face his opponent once more. With his hinged jaw he swallowed the piece whole.

"You will pay for you sacrilege of the honored dead!" the banner man's eyes narrowed in controlled fury.

"Then come! Come and seek your retribution!" Kraal boomed as blood sprayed from his mouth.

This time the charged at one another. Kraal sent a fury of blows all which his opponent dodged with just a second to spare. With each missed strike his opponent closed. Kraal made one more desperate strike. Extending both of his arms he brought them together to cut his opponent in half. The banner man being as young as he was shorter than most creatures which he used to great advantage as he made his own calculated lunge.

Kraal felt something cold spear his insides and erupt in pain he had never known before. Staring down he saw the banner man with his blade piercing his sternum.

"How?" Kraal questioned as his own blood began to leak out his mouth.

"You have no honor and no patience to play the long game. My name is Strauss Stewart and I am the one that killed you."

With a flick of his wrist Strauss twisted the blade and dragged it out. Kraal stared at his opponent in disbelief as he fell back to land on the muddy earth. Kraal's eyes closed as darkness over took him.

Strauss staggered back utterly drained by the fight. Several of the men who had been watching came to his aid.

"No," he said waving them off "attend to the injured and the dead. My wounds are not life threatening and I will be damned first before I see the carrion feast on our dead." Strauss commanded.

The men looked at him in disbelief, awe, and reverence as he took charge. He walked back to the banner of the Thunder Sons. Tears wept from his eyes as he knew of the honorable heroes who had lived and died representing the flag. It was truly a great honor to survive and bear witness to it flapping in the breeze.

Cleaning the blood from the sword he readied himself to carry the flag. To have such a creature's blood anywhere near the flag was a desecration. Sheathing his sword he used his strong arm and lifted the flag with a squelch from the earth. On that day not a single bird of carrion feasted on The Son of Thunder.

Kraal however didn't die. His body lay there for several days as his wounds slowly healed. By fate or by luck not a single bird pecked at him. It wasn't until several human cultists came across his unpicked body did they haul him to a cart of half dead half wounded combatants.

When Kraal finally did gain consciousness he lay among the dead where disease hung in the air. With effort he had lifted himself up. Strauss Stewart's words playing over and over again in his mind.

Days passed and as his strength slowly grew did he begin to understand the benefit of patience. Then when he was strong enough did he challenge his Legion Commander and take the position himself.

_Present_

Tears was almost stunned by his tale and if it hadn't come from a Legion Commander she may have not believe it.

"Strauss Stewart? The…" Tears began.

"I know who he and what he is. He is my teacher and father. He gave me the knowledge and will to be what I have become and what I can be." Kraal said cutting her off.

"Your father?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes my father and will honor him, by killing him. From there I will know that I am ready to ascend to the rank of Generals or Admirals. I will honor his passing by becoming a leader of men." Kraal actually grinned at the thought.

Tears was struck into silence.

"Now tell me, what is this Reclaimer? What is it that we hunt?" the Kraal's grin fading as quickly as it had come.

Tears got up from where she lay and approached the small device that pointed them in the direction of the Reclaimer.

"In the founding of our Empire a great sign was shown before the one whom we now call Paradox."

"Paradox? But that would make him centuries old."

"If not older. No one knows what his true form was when he first entered the Hall of the Black Door. It was said that he was a breath away from death. The being that resided on the other side of the door sensed his approach and bestowed several gifts onto him. Life, the form he has now, immortality, knowledge, and this device. The only device capable of finding this Reclaimer."

She paused to take another breath.

"For years we searched for a Reclaimer, but never did we find one. It was impossible to find as not even Paradox was given the information on what it was. Only that this device," she said holding their compass. " would lead us to it. Some began to lose hope as other clung and died by their faith. Now however after years of waiting our prayers have been answered and it is here."

"But we still have no clue as to what it is."

Tears nodded in agreement.

"Then this shall be fun." Kraal closed his eyes and went back to his meditation.

* * *

><p>Tal sat upon a hammock that had been stuffed with cushions so that she could sit properly. Also, it's gentle swaying was the only thing that comforted her while Captain Picard and his sailors aboard the <em>Enterprise<em> did their duty in navigating the storm.

Plea sat before a hearth controlling the flames with his magic so as the boat didn't start on fire from within and as it was the only source of light from within the room. None of them had spoken as they listened to Piccard shout his orders above the mad gale.

The cabin in which Tal sat was the second largest aboard the _Enterprise._ It was the second largest for the very purpose of storing dragons below decks and out of the way of the crew. It also served as the main hub for the aerial forces armament.

The eight other occupants within the room were Plea, Tom, Anton, Rosetta, and their dragons respectively. A brief introduction had introduced Tal to each riders respective dragons.

Plea's dragon Proethero, laid curled up behind his rider one wing draped over his head sleeping contently. Tal hadn't seen much of the old dragon other than the numerous scars he bore. She could tell though that the scars did not come from careless mistakes.

The highborn Anton whose swords, black and red, matched the scales of his dragon Vulcan. Of the dragons present Vulcan's coloring made him seem the fiercest of them all. His black scales absorbed all the light making him nothing more than a large shadow in a corner. If it wasn't for the royal red of his underbelly and leathery wings he would have been all but invisible. A single red eye had analyzed her and passed her over. Anton leaned next so a support beam next to his dragon reading _The Founding of Haven Guard._

Rosetta Stone was from a line middle class merchants from the Isles of Jewels, which were islands just off the southern coasts of Haven Guard. Her dragon was named after the main island Mona Baya. Mona Baya was indeed female covered in sky blue scales with a tan underbelly. Rosetta was sharpening a hunting knife with a whetstone. Her dragon was watching the dancing flames with a hand close to her rider.

Aragon had one arm draped over Tom and had drawn him in close. Tom's exotic green hair was cut short to only an inch and half. Both him and his dragon were blissfully asleep amidst the storm. Until a rather heavy crash of wave had sent a bucket crashing down onto Tom's head which bounced off onto Aragon's head. No one laughed though as they were all to wrapped in their own thoughts to pay much attention to the other.

Tal subconsciously chewed on the insides of her lips. She had come so far but never did it cross her mind that she may even reach the land were her journey would begin. Now she knew why they called it the Wild Sea. To see such power, to see such raw brutality of nature was frightening.

"You should have more faith in the Captain." Plea spoke from where he sat.

Tal was stunned into a moment of indecision as Plea had broken the silence within the cabin.

"I didn't sense you reading my mind." it was the only thing Tal could say.

"I didn't read your mind at all. It was easy enough to see upon your face." Plea said stoking the coals with an iron rod.

"How can you be so calm like this?"

"Faith. I have faith in Captain Piccard's and his men's ability to see us safely through anything."

"I mean how can you not take action at a time like this?"

"Nor my students or I have the abilities or the knowledge to operate a ship of this class nor do we know storm procedures. If we assisted them now we would only be in the way and putting lives at risk if chose to take such a benevolent action. Thus the best thing we can do right now is stay out of the way."

Tal continued to rock on the hammock not at all satisfied with Plea's answer but saw the wisdom within it.

"However, you are right in one regard. We should take an action that may save the life of the crew."

Tal leaned forward eager to hear what they could do.

"This thing that we hunt for…this creature that calls itself War."

Tal's heart sank at the mention of that thing. Even though she knew her quest was to find it, she secretly hoped they didn't. She didn't know how but she just knew they if they ever faced off against it that they would die.

"Tell me Tal how much combat training have you had?" Plea said as he stared with his cat like eyes.

Tal turned away from the accusing stare unable to meet it.

"My lectures said I had a greater affinity for healing so I never put forth much effort into the real of combat."

"Do you know the basics?"

She shook her head side to side.

"Well another crash course battle training lesson."

All of Plea's current students stared at Plea and paled in horror. Even Rosetta whose skin was darker than her own looked a few shades lighter.

"Anyways we are getting off topic. Tells us what do you know of the creature that we seek."

Tal nodded in understanding as she moved from the comforting safety of the hammock to the center stage where Plea sat. She could feel eyes lay upon her as rider and dragon alike centered their attention upon her by an unspoken command.

When she had reached the center she extracted a silver dish and began to poor water into it. By the time it was full all of the riders had risen from there original positions to gather around.

Reciting words of magical power in a chant she dipped her finger to the pool of water. The outer edges began to vibrate as color exploded from her middle finger. The image began as it had in her dream.

The clear night sky above foreign mountains with creatures of the area going about their nightly rituals. One of the stars began to grow brighter and brighter until a new sun hung above the earth. The new sun's tendrils of energy lashed out where ever they could find purchase and burned the earth to a crisp. Nothing in its passing was spared. Eventually the new sun struck the ground with a mighty force. Tal in the vision still stood within the inferno completely locked by a pressure of unknowable magnitude. Then rising from the ashes it came. It was the same as before with each step that brought it closer its image became clearer and with each step the vision shifted to Haven Guard's capital ever approaching demise.

Then it stopped before her.

"What are you?" her voice echoed from the pool in perfect pitch as the moment she had asked.

"WAR." was all the being had said.

When she withdrew her hand and the vision faded. Tal came out of her vision to see the slightly frightened eyes that equaled her own. Only Plea's eyes remained locked upon the pool locked in thought. The others turned their heads as best they could to stare at their dragons and communicate nonverbally.

For a moment Tal was slightly furious and desperately lonely that she was left out of the conversation and had no one to confide in.

"Plea, what are we to do?" Tom asked weakly.

"Go to bed. All of you. It has been a long day already and this storm already has us on edge. We will discuss things further in the morning." Plea said gently.

There was no rebuttal had their had often times been when the team had been young and recently formed. Each rider went back to their dragon who quickly enfolded them with their wings. Only Plea remained stoking the last of the coals.

"_What was is this?"_ Proethero's mental voice projected into Plea's head.

"_I do not know."_ Plea responded truthfully but with sudden sense of unease.

"_Not that creature! This! This situation we are in! This not something you send a group of hatchlings on with only one senior member. A mission such as this would require at least ten veterans."_ Proethero's voice hissed with anger.

"_I am quite aware as to the nature of the situation. As to how many veterans we would need is a mystery. We know nothing of its capabilities or motives. Only that it's name is War."_

"_That should tell you plenty of what it's motivations are."_

"_Still we must give the benefit of the doubt to this creature before we engage in hostilities."_

"_You want to give something named War the benefit of the doubt? You gave Odin the benefit of the doubt when you took this mission. By the Old Ones you took this mission without even asking, putting these very hatchlings at risk."_ Proethero's voice emphasized looking over each individual in turn with parental care.

"_Once more I am quite aware. However we both know of the debts we owe to Odin. This is a small order for the sake of both of our lives."_

"_Yes and what of theirs? To have their innocence end prematurely and have them become child soldiers? Could you send them to their deaths? Could you watch them die? Would you do this all for the sake of honor?"_

Plea turned to face Proethero with both anger and defeat written across his face.

"_How long have we known one another? How long have we fought and bleed beside each other? How many times have we raised our students much like our own sons and daughters? You should know me better than to question me with such things. My friend, my partner, my brother. Please have faith in me."_

"_Little one…I have always had faith in you. I just hope that you can have faith in yourself and Odin after this trial."_ Proehero said offering a wing in open invitation.

Plea shook his head side to side in response. He tuned back to the coals crushing them with the iron rod until not even embers remained. When darkness filled the cabin did he go to Proethero.

"What Odin are you after?" Plea asked himself knowing quite well that a second plan may be playing behind the scenes.

* * *

><p>"I didn't…" Shakii began sputtering as she stared into the Spartan's blue eyes.<p>

"We didn't…" Jordan stared directly back into hers.

They scrambled madly away from one another. Both discovered, much to their dismay, that they lacked any form of clothing. Slightly panicking both looked around for their clothes. Sadly they found their clothes ripped and shredded as if animals had attacked them.

"No, no, no. This can't be happening." Shakii said holding her head with both hands. Which incidentally caused the ripped fabric of the tent that she was wearing as a gown fell around her ankles.

The Spartan had only a second to stare before she had covered herself once more.

"This is all your fault." she said angrily as she jabbed one finger into his chest.

"Me? How is _this_ my fault? You agreed to the drinking game just like I did!"

"Then how did we end up like this!"

"Do I look like I have all the answers?" the Spartan hissed.

Shakii was about to retort when both heard a shout from beyond the secure comfort of the tent's destruction.

"Is anyone in there? This is Captain Mattock! We are coming in in there."

The Spartan was about to shout when Shakii put her fingers to his lips.

"No one must ever find out about this!" she whispered harshly.

"Then what do you suggest we do then?" he whispered back.

She looked around with panicked eyes thinking of a way out of this. Shakii looked at her dragon only to see him still passed out from the night's events.

"Run."

He gaped at her as she ran. It took mere moments before he realized the implications if their night's activities were discovered. Even though none of them had truly remembered what had happened people of the Varden would spread rumors whether or not it was true. Jordan made one glance at the still sleeping Saphira before taking off in the direction that Shakii had gone.

It was an easy matter to catch up with her as she had paused just behind a flap of canvas that was at the perimeter. He settled in behind her staring at the guards that stopped them from getting through.

"As far as I can tell they surround the entire perimeter."

"Any chance of getting past them?"

"Not without drawing attention to ourselves…unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Give me a moment." she hissed.

The Spartan would have backed off, but the protection offered by the canvas was small.

"When I move you move."

The Spartan just gave an ambiguous grunt in response. Shakii uttered several words in the ancient language followed by a loud crash heard. The men that stood around the perimeter turned their heads to the commotion. In a flash Shakii was up and running with the Spartan behind her. Silently they leapt up into the air clearing the line of guards. By the time the guards had turned back to keep watch the two had already landed silently behind them before blending into the shadows of the twilight.

They stuck to the shadows as they moved through the camp. The only sound that they made if they were careless was a rustle of a tent's fabric as they past by. The Spartan followed Shakii's lead as she seemed to have an instinctive understanding as to where the guards were and what their patrols were. Jordan reflected upon the layout of the Varden camp trying to determine where they were as they were moving. If he had to guess they were close to the edge of the Varden camp.

Shakii jumped up to a tent pole landing like cat upon it. The Spartan pressed as close as he dared to the tent. Everything had been fine thus far, though he wondered why she stopped.

"What is it?" he hissed.

"Trouble." she grumbled back.

"What type of trouble exactly?"

Just as quickly as she had gone up the pole she jumped down and huddled near him.

"This route take us directly to the edge of camp. However, we have a small detachment of guards blocking us."

"Can't you create another distraction?"

"Nothing loud enough to draw all of them off."

The Spartan patiently watched the guards as they made their rounds.

"There is a 2.4 second window where the guards will not be able to see us." he stated flatly.

"That's not a lot of time."

"Or we could fake being drunk lovers and hope that they decide to let us pass." Jordan said smirking.

"We can make it." she said as she turned back to watch the guards movement.

Jordan smiled as he knew that was all the incentive he needed to give her. They waited for the moment when they would be able to slip past the guards. Each one had their muscles tense, ready to spring loose when the moment came. When it did, they acted.

They separated each moving parallel with the other. Running through the mud was a dirty affair but the guards never noticed the fresh prints. Jordan had his head on a swivel looking for the possibility that one guard had been missed. Shakii on the other hand shared no such concern.

"Guards on the other side of this tent." she hissed back to him.

"Move left and I'll move right." he whispered back.

Without responding Shakii moved to the right. Rather than run for all she was worth she did a double knee slide in the mud, just going under the guards field of vision. The Spartan on the other side slunk around the tent making not a sound as he kicked himself into the air and used one hand to grab the pole of the tent and change his momentum. As the guards turned their heads to see what had made the sliding sound Jordan did a baseball slide on the other side. The guards were left wondering what exactly had happened.

They were finally home free, all that was left was a bare naked sprint. Due to their own physical traits, they weren't even sweating by the time the time that they reached Shakii's tent.

Jordan cast one glance behind them to see that no one was watching before following Shakii into her tent.

The clang of metal on face could be heard from a mile around.

"Get out!" Shakii shrilly screamed.

Jordan stumbled out of the tent slightly dazed with half his face red from being struck. Shakii followed out her face red with embarrassment wielding a frying pan in one hand.

"You expect me to run around like this?"

She through him a bright purple bathrobe that wouldn't even cover half of his body. Jordan was now faced with the dilemma of either running around with nothing or the bright purple woman's garment.

"Sogen?" Mirra asked as she stared off into the distance.

"Yes, Mirra?" Sogen grunted as he carried a heavy load of fresh bandages.

"Is that young man running naked?"

Following Mirra's gaze he saw a lone figure running for all he was worth on the outskirts of the camp.

"Ah, I remember the days when I was young and could get away with such shenanigans. If I remember correctly you and I shared such nights."

"I still have the frying pan to prove it."

The Spartan ran as if he was trying to out race the Chief who was on a Warthog who was trying to out race an explosion of apocalyptic proportions. When he saw the Field Hospital waiting with doors wide open he thought he had made it. However unlike the Chief, Lady Luck only smiled upon him when he was only in the deepest most improbable situation and it didn't help that he had an AI that favored its amusement over his dignity.

When the doors slammed shut several strides before the Spartan could enter, only one thought entered his mind.

"_Son of bi…"_ he never got to finish his sentence as the half of his face that wasn't red from being struck by a frying pan hit the door.

The Spartan groaned somewhat pitifully as he rolled on his back clutching at his face. Then and there he promised himself to never drink again. When he was finally able to get back to his feet he saw the bright gold lettering of the AI in LOL. Jordan went in clutching one half of his face.

When the Spartan was in he applied ample amounts of drugs to reduce swelling, the pain due to his Spartan training was easy to push aside. Walking into the nearest room he collapsed face first on one of the cots.

"I would rather go face thirty-four hunters with a crappy M6C Magnum Sidearm than ever have to relive that again."

The brightly glaring light of the AI's messaging forced him to open his just to see what the AI wanted his attention.

GOOD THING I RECORDED EVERY SECOND OF IT.

Jordan could only glare at the screen.

WHEN I RETURN TO UNSC SPACE I WILL BE SURE TO UPDATE ONI ON THE EFFECTIVENESS OF A FRYING PAN ON A SPARTAN

The AI showed a video of the Spartan stumbling out with a furious Shakii wielding a frying pan like a war axe.

IT IS ALSO SAD THOUGH AS I CANNOT UPLOAD YOUR VIDEO AND ALL THE ITERATIONS THAT I HAVE MADE TO THE OMNITUBE

Silently the Spartan watched as an aerial view showed him on his mad sprint. He nearly winced when he saw himself come to a dead stop at the door.

Then came a series of the same video with small alterations. There was one where he was an American football player running into the end zone with a horde of pixilated football players chasing after him. He was stopped when he was blindsided by one of the pixilated players. The next had him running through a bombed out field with a horde of Covenant on his tail. This time he was stopped when a Banshee dropped a green fuel rod shot on him.

When the Spartan had had enough he turned his face into the pillow and fell asleep.

When the AI sensed it could no longer get a rise out of the Spartan it turned off all the lights aside from a few near the door so that the Spartan could get an uninterrupted sleep. When the Spartan awoke he would need all the strength necessary to face the task ahead.

The Spartan knew that he was dreaming, but there was something wrong with it. It felt to real. He stood on a raised dais next to thirteen figures whose form swirled, giving no real form to focus on except for ornate white head piece not much different than what an Elite councilor would wear. Below them however, bound in chains was oblique blob of a form with face of yellow glowing eyes and a maw of cracked teeth.

"Your treachery can no longer be tolerated." the farthest to his left spoke. It was male, that much he was sure of.

"What treachery is this you speak of?" the prisoner asked…almost rhetorically?

"Not only have you gone against your own race but you have threaten the Mantle! The very foundations of our societal existence!" this voice came from the fourth from his right.

The blob let a low laugh escape from his throat which made the very room that they were in seem to tremble.

"You wise council of the Thirteen are more sincere with the belief in the Mantle that you can't see that we've gone against it's every teaching."

"Heresy!" was the common hiss.

Jeers came from all around down upon the chained form. Only the center one, the one whom Jordan stood next to refrained from saying anything. By simply raising a hand the head councilor silenced all.

"I was wondering when you were going to speak Librarian." the form almost spat out Librarian as a curse.

The Spartan's mind recognized the name immediately. He tried to call out, but no voice was heard. The trial, if that was what this was, continued on without interruption.

"What do you mean that we have gone against the Mantle?"

The form gave that low dark chuckle once more.

"You need not ask me to get a simple answer. You could ask Born Stellar Makes Eternal or the Diadict reborn as he is now referred too."

Jordan said nothing as he absorbed the conversation. He remembered hearing about the Diadict but nothing about the other Forerunner. Who was this prisoner and how did he know so much?

"Answer the question."

The prisoner jutted his lower teeth forward as if bearing them before he answered.

"The motto of our so righteously upheld mantle is to protect the weak and guide them when what we do is the exact opposite. When we encounter another race we engage them with all our force and pound them into subjugation. The strong rule and the weak live as long as we allow them too. That is the way of the Forerunners. The Mantle is nothing more than something we use to delude our children and give ourselves an outlet from the guilt."

"While I will not disagree with your claims we must remember that even with our long lives that we are still mortal and susceptible to the same failings. What the Mantle offers is a goal to strive for and allows for diversity in all forms to flourish."

"What a pretty self deluded picture you paint. I wondered about you Librarian. I wondered how much guilt you had within yourself that you tied all your beliefs into the Mantle. The diversity you speak of has made us weak. When need to be of one mind of one purpose if we wish to attain the goal you speak of. We need to be like the Flood."

Jordan was said nothing but he could feel his own anger grow at the insanity of the Forerunner.

"The Flood is an abomination in the pursuit of its goals. For you to believe the same! The way the Diadict spoke of you…that Forerunner no longer exists."

The Librarian paused as she looked down upon the captive almost picking him apart.

"Without the power of diversity we have no choice, without choice we would be no better than simple machines. Merely made to fulfill a single function. Peace by choice will be far more loved than a peace by force. The war with the humans should have taught you this. To have patience and love in the face of adversity is much harder, but greater in reward than to take up arms and force others to believe your way."

"Your belief in the mantle has made us weak!"

"My belief in the Mantle will be what keeps life going long after we, the Flood and I, have passed. Our children that we leave behind shall stumble and they will fall, but they will grow and our knowledge will be there when they are ready."

"Children…" the blob garbled the world in disgust.

"All those who we leave behind and those we have deemed to be our successors."

"Our greatest enemy? You give them the keys to our technologies?" the words escaped over jagged teeth of a beast.

"They are not humans, not as they were, not as we had known them. They are the offspring of us both. Our children."

The other councilors were silent. If this information was new to them or if it was known the Spartan could not tell.

"You have created vermin. An abomination of both species! Do you not see that you have created something as dangerous or more so than the Flood?"

"A mastery of destruction is easy. A mastery of growing and shaping takes a lifetime. A lesson I want our children to learn. When they understand this they shall know what it means to uphold the Mantle."

Now where had the Spartan heard that?

"Your perversions will never achieve such a goal. They will destroy themselves and whatever race they come into contact with if they ever get a hold of our technology. I will not allow this to pass."

"The decision is out of your hands. Many of us would rather have had been laid to rest upon the Final Throne, but your stance with the Diadict has caused for some serious consideration. You will be forcibly incarcerated in a Crytpum."

"No prison will hold me forever and when I do get out I will exterminate your precious children."

"You will have many years to plot your revenge." the Librarian spoke not with anger but with pity.

The dream faded till only the Librarian remained. She turned to face him.

"Please," she begged "defend the Mantle."

The Spartan jolted from his bed with a start. He had rolled onto his back while he slept and was now in a sitting position.

A faint yellow light had him turn to see the monitor that he AI used to communicate.

GOOD MORNING SPARTAN.

I HAVE FOUND A FORERUNNER FACILITY.

WE HAVE A BUSY DAY AHEAD OF US.

"Isn't that interesting."

* * *

><p>"So you mean to tell me that you are simply an Author writing a fan fiction cross over about the Inheritance Cycle and Halo."<p>

"Correct."

"And Sarge thought you were a threat right?"

"Yes Mrs. Tex."

Tex sighed with irritation.

"You have no idea who Omally is?"

"I downloaded software from someone named Omally."

"What software did you download?" Tex asked seriously.

"Sky Net."

Elsewhere.

"Sarge do you ever believe that a computer system may take over advance killer robots to wipe out humanity to rule the world?"

"No of course not! If modern 21st Century movies have taught us anything the world will end in a Zombie apocalypse spawned by Roid Monkies, a virus developed by the government, or aliens."

"You know there are other ways the world can end."

"Runaway! Shelia has gone crazy!" Church screamed as he ran over the hill to red base.

"All," KABOOM a tank shell exploded over head "are crazy."

"Enact Echo Phi Delta 44!" Sarge yelled.

"Griff isn't here to throw his radioactive infested corpse at the tank to clog its main cannon."

"Then retreat!" Sarge screamed as everyone left in the canyon took shelter red base from a psychotic tank.


	12. Not a Chapter, but a Promise

Hey guys, sorry for the long absence. This story has not been abandoned and I'm still working on it. I'm glad to say that next three chapters I have planned out are nearly finished and ready for upload. However since I have gone so long without an update I thought I would give you guys a discarded chapter and a future chapter.

This first chapter proceeds as if Boldhgarm (I know probably spelled that wrong) had insulted War-Jordan enough such that he went off and engaged the Laughing Men during the Eldest series. The reason why I discarded this chapter was that I believed it would be detrimental to his character development (losing his alias as War and becoming more human as Jordan), showing that he was still stuck in his old ways and not growing up. In this chapter War-Jordan engages the Laughing Men and Murtagh.

"If your not going to join me then get out of my way." Jordan spoke hotly to Saphira as he made his way forward.

The words of Blodhgarm were still rattling around in his mind. Had he chosen to take a deep breath and consider his behavior he may have noticed his lack of professionalism, but he was angry and his ire needed an outlet. In this case handling the men that Galbatorix had sent to capture "Eragon".

As he rounded to strike at his attacker he saw it was the exact same opponent he thought he had fell in his wake of destruction. Deflecting the next blow with ease he saw that some of the men that still had their heads were rising to their feet or were hobbling their way to the closet opponent. In a split second he analyzed his opponents and seen the most viable way to kill them. They seemed to lack the pain sensors that had been associated with a Flood combat form, and he knew that the only way to put down a Flood combat form was to separate the Central Nervous System from the rest of the body. Which was exactly what he preceded to do.

With the next strike he deflected the blow downwards and while his opponent was still recovering he beheaded his opponent. With the threat analyzed he adapted his strategy accordingly.

His seventeenth opponent came at him with a mace and shield. Using his unparallel reaction time to his advantage he swept the blade across the right knee. The titanium blade had no problem passing through steel, muscle, and bone. The man fell with a cry of pain, but before he reached the ground the Spartan grabbed the mace with his left hand stopping the man's fall. His opponent never had the chance to understand what had happened as swift kick to the jaw snapped the neck backward breaking the important vertebrae in the neck. Taking the mace the Spartan swung it around in 180 degree arc to number eighteen on the victim list who suffered from a broken jaw and a fatal blow that broke the skull and pulverized the soft brain tissue underneath. He died without making a sound. Number nineteen died with a mace smashing into his face at lethal speeds. Twenty tried to get him from behind but the his superb hearing heard the approaching footfalls over the chorus of bloody warfare. 267 swept low the Katana separating both legs from the body. Even before his pain dulled opponent could begin to rise the Spartan reversed his hold and plunged his blade into the open neck.

Twenty one likewise came from behind. Knowing that dislodging the blade could take more time than he intended he took the knife from his boot and turned to face the next one that would fall to him. Blocking the overhand swing with one arm his other plunged into the neck and upward to the Medulla Oblongata.

Two more came at him from behind, but before they could reach him two Kull took them out with bludgeoning blows to the head. The Spartan turned back into the fray knowing that he could thank the Urgals if they survived, until then there were people to kill.

The soldiers soon came to realize that even with their reduced stimuli to pain that the "Eragon" look alike was disposing of them quite rapidly. Even though the Kull and the horsemen could be easily fooled into thinking they had died the one with the strange blade went for strikes that no man would be able to recover from. Never having seen Eragon except from the drawn caricature's of Galbatorix's artist none of them had ever seen him in person, but having seen the way this fighter carried himself they assumed that this could be Eragon. A magician within their ranks set back a message to Murtagh who was waiting for Eragon to appear. They didn't have to wait long for the red dragon and his master to appear.

With a loud rush of billowing air and terrifying roar Thorn approached the field. A large berth was given as neither side wish to be close to the dragon, aside from two. The Spartan and Mattocak stood before them both. The Spartan's his body tense and his sword raised above his head. Mattock breathed uncontrollably his fury at the loss of his beloved king had him stand his ground and grip his weapons tightly.

"You look like Eragon but you are not him." Murtagh spoke calmly to the Spartan as the dragon sized both of them up.

"You're the grey giant that I saw kill the Twins." Murtagh's face was one of intrigue as he stared down the at the man.

"Yes."

"And I Mattock will be the one who will end you and avenge my King's death!" Mattock boasted with the courage to back up his claim.

Jordan weighed his options available. As much as he hated admitting at being at a disadvantage he had to admit that he was at a disadvantage. It was not the fact that the dragon before him had weighed the odds so heavily in Murtagh's direction, but rather the fact that he could use magic. He had no clue how powerful Murtagh was or what he was capable of.

"_Well, only one way to find out."_

"You have peaked Galbatorix's interest. A rare feat let me tell you. He has seen what your…sticks of thunder are capable of and is curious what you can do for him."

"I'm flattered that the king would be interested in me. But I only date _crazy _women." was the deadpanned response.

_ "Damn! I missed a joke about sticks of thunder!"_ was a brief thought.

"We can either make this easy or hard. I would rather not have to spill more blood than I need to." Murtagh said undaunted.

"If you want him you'll have to go through me first!" Mattock spoke hotly. "Let's get him lad!" Mattock turned back only to see the man he was speaking of not standing there.

The Spartan had grown tired of this charade and that any more breath wasted on speaking would be a waste of time. He charge forward down and low. Thorn snapped his head forward to strike him, but he was to fast and was to far into Thorn's guard for the dragon to react fast enough. Murtagh had just a moment to raise his sword to block the strike. The force was nearly enough to knock him out of Thorn's saddle. In the back of his mind Murtagh knew that the blow had lacked force because of the Spartan's feet positioned on the space between the neck and wing.

_ "Gifted with magic and such progidous strength! Who are you?"_ Murtagh wondered.

Alternating the hold on both of their blades the Spartan forced them down exposing Murtagh's face. With as much force as he could muster he sent a punch straight at his opponent's stunned face. Murtagh's barrier stopped the blow an inch from his face where the Spartan's punch struggled to pierce.

Thorn turned his head to aid his rider as their opponent had his back to him. Before he could he raise his head from his previous strike at the Spartan the dwarf had launched himself at the dragon's head. Thorn whipped his head back and bodily backed up causing a disturbing shift on the two humans on his back. He hissed at the dwarf who recovered from his launch and ran at him with both a hammer and short sword in hand. Staring down at the puny two legger Thorn couldn't help but be slightly amused that this being would challenge him of all creatures. Knowing that he could swallow him in one strike Thorn set out to do just that. He should have known better.

Mattock was not an ordinary dwarf. As one seeing a dragon head coming at them with an open maw where other would freeze up with fear Mattock jumped straight into the mouth. It may have been an end to any ordinary foe. But any dwarf from clan Ingeitum was far from ordinary. With his large hammer he had wedged a gap large enough for him in Thorn's maw.

"You'll find me a much hardier morsel!" Mattock roared as he dove his short sword into the gums of his adversary.

Thron reared back in agony at the sudden pain in his mouth. He thrashed around wildly causing even a greater disturbance to the humans who fought on his back. Thron's head whipped side to side to dislodge the stubborn dwarf. The more Thorn struggled the deeper Mattock dug in his heels. With a mighty effort Thorn whipped his head down to dislodge the dwarf. He succeeded. Mattock lost his grip and fell hard on to the open ground. Without the might of the dwarf to support the hammer it was flung unceremoniously away from Mattock lay. The dragon now freed of his torment turned to its cause. Swelling his chest Thorn called upon the fire that burned within that was fueled by his pain and hate.

Jordan fought with all his might to stay on the bucking dragon as Murtagh tried with all of his to force him off. Neither side made headway in attacking the other as neither could orient themselves in order to strike. When the rocking motion finally stopped he looked over his shoulder to see Mattock fall out of Thorn's mouth. With the change in the neck muscle's Jordan could feel as Thorn prepared to exhale the gift that was befit of all dragon kind. Knowing what was coming he made a split second decision. Leaping away from Murtagh he sailed away straight toward Thron's raised head. At the top of his arc his arm shot out hooking several fingers into the thin skin of flesh that connected Thron's upper and lower jaw. Jordan knew that the best way to win a fight was to control someone's head whether it be mental or physical. As of now he controlled the physical. Using the momentum of his flight he changed the direction of Thorn's head and in turn to divert the terrible flame away from Mattock, but it still could not be stopped. He felt a burning pain lance through his fingers as the fire rushed out of Thorn's open maw. As he hit the ground he altered his grip on his blade so that he could stab it down into Thorn's eye. The red dragon's eye widened in terror as the blade descended. Once again however Jordan's blade was stopped by a barrier. This was all the moment Murtagh need as he cast a spell that sent both combatants back.

Spartan time over came Jordan as he was flung back by the rushing wall of air. He took in the field of battle looking for anything of use. As he tumbled he saw a spear sticking out of a body that it had fell. Lashing his injured hand at the rough wood he wrenched it out of the body as he turned his momentum. His feet struck the bloodied ground and continued to slide as there was so much that it functioned as lubricant between him and the earth. With a mighty heave he sent the spear flying. It soared past Thorn's serpentine head and brushed by Murtagh's hair. His barrier had been broken.

Murtagh stared stunned at the Spartan even as he attended to Thorn's wounds. He never expected this much trouble. A loud roar that could only come from a dragon shocked him to his senses as Saphira rose into the air from the Varden's camp.

"Until next time." Murtagh shouted to the Spartan.

Thorn snorted fire from his nose unsatisfied with the outcome. However he knew that if he let Saphira gain air superiority now they would be that much hard pressed to survive.

"You'll never get as good of a chance." Jordan yelled as Thorn and Murtagh took off to engage the Varden's rider.

No response came as they became smaller and smaller.

"Come back here you yellow bellied cowards! I'm not done with you!" Mattock yelled furiously shaking both of his recovered weapons.

Sighing in defeat that his quarry had escaped he turned to the only opponent's available to him.

"Well I guess you'll have to do."

With a mighty cry Mattock the dwarf who had entered a dragon's mouth and lived to tell about it charged a dozen men who turned to flee from the insane dwarf. The men of the Varden took note of their fleeing enemies and gave chase. The Spartan stayed where he was as he watched Thorn and Saphira twist in the air. The fight was over and his anger had been sated. Sliding his katana back into its scabbard he walked back to the Varden camp to done on his gear.

777

This next little bit comes when the Varden engages the Emperor. The battle is already underway and War-Jordan has knocked Shuriken out of the fight. He has crashed into the Emperor's throne room to meet Galbatorix face to face for the first time. Also I wrote this back when Thor came out and before Inheritance. I was just thinking that the dwarves at the time would be interested about the Spartan and his armor. Knowing that Mjloiner was only wielded by the strongest of the gods (Thor) I figured that the dwarves might give him a magically forged hammer after he had helped them on some important mission. Also I didn't what the Emperor looked like and I figured that no human would follow someone that looked like Palpatine and I wanted to create my own image for Galbatorix, once more this was before Inheritance came out.

777

Jordan's world turned as he came back too. It must have been only a few minutes as the fires from the explosion still raged. As his hearing came too he heard the shrill alarm warning him that his shields had been depleted. Hefting a pillar that had fallen atop him he got to his feet. The alarm instantly cut off as his shields began to recharge.

Distantly he could still hear the cries of men and the clash of swords. He had hoped that he could give the Riders enough time to cut Galbatorix's connection to the dragon hearts but it looked like it was unnecessary. He looked around the ruins trying to piece together where he had landed. The room was spacious and surprisingly well fortified as it had withstood both him and Shuriken. Multiple pillars held up the high arching roof. It was well lit by torches, not including the fires he had added, and the few streaks of the setting sun beamed through the colored glass lighting the room in a multitude of colors. A fine red carpet of unequal shine wove under his feet.

Following the red carpet he spotted a throne of gold. It was embedded with diamonds, jewels, and other exotic rocks that he could not identify. Velvet covered pillows that had been overstuffed with feathers. The artisan had combined riches with comfort, a luxury that only the rich could afford. Correction, only what a king could afford. The price of a nation. This was it. The throne of Galbatorix.

"Beautiful is it not?"

Jordan whipped around, his hands already reaching for his Assault Rifle. It was too much to hope that he had been the only one to survive the blast. There stood Galbatorix completely relaxed as if the explosion had been nothing more than a soft spring breeze. His black and blood red trimmed armor was unmarked while Jordan's was battle scarred beyond measure.

The mad king let loose a booming laugh as if recalling a private joke. Jordan remained unflinching, but did not pull the trigger. If he could still end this without shedding more blood, than he would at least try.

"Never has someone ever pushed me this far." Galbatorix spoke as he lifted his helmet's visor.

This was the first look that Jordan ever had of the King's face. The King's face was that of a handsome man and not the cur that the Varden made him out to be. His appearance was more of the ideal uncle of every family. No wrinkles, scars, or sores blemished his face. His hair wavy hair parted down the center of his scalp shone slick with grease. A man's fine mustache flowed into a goatee. Both looked like as if they had been preened day after day. His hazel eyes that could swoon the heart of any woman were alit with a man that was driven to great things by will alone. It unnerved Jordan beyond measure. The faces, the places of birth, and the scars of the past were different but essentially Jordan was looking at himself. Here was a man that had not gone undergone the same torturous training he and all the others had undergone that resulted in their birth of uncompromising will, but slap Mark VI power armor on Galbatroix and what was the difference? As much as he hated to admit it Galbatorix would have made one hell of a Spartan.

"Not even the most powerful rider ever brought me this low." He spoke marveling the Spartan. Jordan said nothing in response.

"So this is the might of humanity from another world?"

The Spartan did not speak. He would let the King bring forth the offer that he knew was coming before giving his own.

"I have weapons made of the finest caliber. I have an army of thousands upon thousands of soldiers all willing to give their lives for me. I have more women than I can entertain in a year. I will have every race of every nation bend to my will make no mistake about that. Yet for all my power I could not bear an heir. Any child I had could be weak or just as likely to stab me in the back. Even if neither happened and Gods forbid I died the resulting line would breed impudence, as all kings and queens do. That impudence would lead to fall of all that I had struggled to build. However here you are. One of will and might great enough to upset a nation, just as I had done so long ago. A young man without a nation, without a family, without a father. One with the knowledge to expand my empire beyond this planet's boundaries to the stars themselves. Now the Gods have answered my prayers and here you are. Do you not see that your fate was to join me at my side? I ask of you to kneel before me and swear your loyalty to me as a son. In return I will grant you immortality, power, a dragon of your very own, the General of my forces, people that would bend to your very will, and any wish that your heart so desired but was too afraid to ask."

Now all was made clear to Jordan. There was a difference between Galbatorix and Spartan kind. A difference between him and the King. Sanity. All sentient life had the right to choose its fate own fate and not be subject to the whim of power hungry mad man.

"You my King are mad beyond measure, but you're not stupid. You didn't get to where you are now by being a fool. This is what I have to offer. End this bloodshed now by forming a treaty with Varden and their allies. Let go your hold over Shuriken, the soldiers, and the people you rule. Do this and I will not fight you." Jordan spoke resolutely in his offer. It was either this or open war.

Galbatorix did not scowl, but he frowned in disappointment. This was not what he expected. How could he resist all that he had to offer? He closed his helmet and drew his black double edged sword.

"Either by peace or by force I will have you. I will have your power."

Before the King could take his first step the Spartan was already firing. Galbatorix brought his round black shield to take the brunt of the force as he charged the Spartan. The shield must have been magically endowed as the bullets were either deflected or stopped dead in their tracks. Jordan was surprised at the speed that Galbatorix had to cross the distance in the time that it took him to empty the clip. Before he could even reload his next clip Galbatorix was upon him. He raised his Assault Rifle to block overhead stroke. The blade cut through it like a hot knife through butter. The Spartan jumped back to avoid being hacked in half by the sword. Only a plasma sword had that capability.

_ "Magic."_ Jordan cursed. The king had had over a century too empower his armor and weapons. Only he knew how much power he had put into his equipment and the abilities he had put into each. That wasn't even including all the other tricks he had up his sleeve.

Tossing the useless pieces at Galbatorix he was able to buy himself the precious micro seconds he needed to draw his others weapons. He brandished his dwarven forged magically endowed hammer in his left and the laser cut to perfection Titanium-A katana with the right. Galbatroix recomposed himself as he saw his opponent had drawn his weapons. The two began to circle one another like wolves looking for openings. To an outside viewer it would be impossible who twitched first that set off the two warriors too charge one another.

Blue sparks danced off each blade when they clashed. Their battle was one of skill, brutality, and beauty. Each was matched. Speed for speed. Strength for strength.

It was impossible, the Spartan vaguely thought as he deflected a horizontal slash, that any natural born human should be able to match a Spartan, even one in power armor. Yet here he was placed on an equal footing with an unaltered man.

With an overhead swing he brought down his hammer on top of Galbatorix whose shield absorbed the brunt of the force. Galbatorix retaliated with a slice toward his abdomen. He jerked his lower body back to avoid the lethal cut. The tip of the black blade made a horizontal scar on the Titanium Nanocomposite Bodysuit, completely bypassing the energy shield. This was the first true blow that either combatant had landed, but they had as of yet to draw blood. Jordan didn't flinch at the scratch and didn't give Galbatorix the chance to enjoy the first strike.

Jordan deflected Galbatorix's next strike with of flick of his sword and lashed out with his hammer on the King's sword arm. The blow landed with bone crushing force but the magical barrier completely nullified the force of the blow. Jordan leaned back avoiding the shield strike to his face. With cobra like quickness the King followed up with a thrust to the Spartan's face. The quick last second jerk of his head saved Jordan from being skewered. With another blow from his hammer the Spartan batted the sword aside. Twisting behind the King he brought his katana across the back of his opponents. Once more the armor did its job and absorbed the lethality of the blow. However there was enough force behind the blow to send the King stumbling forward. The Spartan did not hesitate on the opportunity that presented itself. Steel and stone smashed into the King's unprotected back multiple times. The blows had yet to deform the armor but that didn't deter the Spartan from smashing his weapons with as much force as he could.

The King's skill in battle had not waned over his long time away from the battlefield as he abandoned his attempt to regain his footing and rolled forward escaping the Spartan's incapacitating blows. He brought his shield up in front of him to deflect any head on strikes. Wordlessly he called up a vast amount of power from his almost limitless supply of magic. As the Spartan's earth shaking footfalls announced his approach the King poured a sizeable amount into his shield. When he was sure the Spartan was close enough he rose up and unleashed the stored energy. The blow caught Jordan in his gut and completely unprepared. He still had difficulty excepting that the King had the physical capabilities of a Spartan. The added energy sent the Spartan encased in half a ton of armor flying back to the steps that ascended to the throne.

With the Spartan's enhanced hearing he caught the soft footfalls of Galbatorix charging to meet him. While still rising he tossed his hammer at Galbatorix's head. Seeing the hammer coming for his face Galbatorix rolled forward under the lethal projectile. The King's momentum was not lessened as he came out of the roll and charged at the fully recovered Spartan. Whispering the hammer's ancient name he called it back along the path that it had traveled. His plan was too have the hammer strike the back of Galbatorix's head and catch the King's unprotected throat. With mounting anticipation Jordan watched as the hammer caught up to Galbatorix. Much to the Spartan's amazement the King jumped up and placed one boot on the flying hammer. Without a second thought he leaned back to avoid the King's initial stab. Pain wracked the Spartan's right shoulder as the King's blade cut into his flesh. Standing back up he saw Galbatorix plunge his blade into the broadside of the hammer. He didn't need to be told that the magic of the enchanted hammer had been broken. The pain that had lanced through his system was subdued both due to his training and the pain killers flowing through him.

The King flicked the small amount of blood off his blade as if it were a minor inconvenience. Even though his face was covered by a visor Jordan could guess that he was smiling. Briefly Jordan wondered if this had been the similar experience for the Covenant that he had fought. Taking his Katana in both hands he hoped that his actions had bought Eragon and the others enough time to make some head way in freeing the dragon hearts, because as of now his chances of winning had dropped dramatically.

777

Just want to say don't be mad and I will upload all three chapters sometime in November or early December. If you have any questions or comments please feel free to PM me.


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